


And Baby Makes Four

by Samantha Quinn (zarabithia)



Category: Star Trek: Enterprise
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-03-14
Updated: 2006-03-14
Packaged: 2018-08-16 06:03:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 29,568
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8090341
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zarabithia/pseuds/Samantha%20Quinn
Summary: How did T'Pol, Malcolm and Trip come to have a daughter? (08/30/2003)





	

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Kylie Lee, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [Warp 5 Complex](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Warp_5_Complex), the software of which ceased to be maintained and created a security hazard. To make future maintenance and archive growth easier, I began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in August 2016. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but I may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Warp 5 Complex collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/Warp5Complex).

  
Author's notes: Spoilers, 1.05 "Unexpected," 1.16 "Shuttlepod One," 1.17 "Fusion."  
  
I haven't abandoned "Supernova." But this idea forced itself into my head today for no apparent reason while I was reading about the California Gold Rush. Eh, the book was boring, what can I say? Also, this is NOT slashy, although it may appear that way in the beginning. Although, I do like slash. perhaps the muse will tackle it next?  


* * *

"'Night, pumpkin," Trip Tucker said, kissing his daughter on the forehead.

"Daddy, tell me a story," the little girl demanded, but another person voiced opposition to that idea.

"Oh, no you don't, young lady. You've already had two stories tonight. That is more than sufficient," Malcolm Reed admonished.

In reply, the child turned her Reed-brown eyes towards Malcolm. "But, father," she pleaded to him, "just one more...please?"

Malcolm caved.

"You do realize she has inherited this swindling ability from you, do you not?" the armoury officer stated to the chief of engineering.

"Yep, southern charm at its best," replied Trip with a grin.

"In that case, I shall have to reinforce her lessons in British civilization," Malcolm replied. "Just to counteract your damage."

T'Lanna Maryanne Tucker-Reed giggled as Malcolm leaned forward to twinge his daughter's nose in an effort to soften any perceived harshness from his tone.

"What story would you like, kiddo?" Trip inquired of T'Lanna.

"How about the story of when your dad became the first human male to become pregnant?" Malcolm asked.

At Trip's indignant look, T'Lanna giggled again. "No, no. I've heard that one lots of times, father. You tell me that one all the time."

"Yes, you most certainly do," Trip grumbled.

"What story would you like, then love?" Malcolm inquired, as he again squeaked her nose.

T'Lanna took a deep breathe and squared her shoulders before beginning to speak. Both Malcolm and Trip exchanged looks of apprehension. They knew that technique well. T'Lanna's mother exhibited right before she presented bad news.

"I want to know the story of how I came to be," T'Lanna stated.

Yep, her mother's mannerisms all right. Unfortunately, the child's mimicked behavior had failed to properly prepare the two men and they were still left momentarily speechless.

T'Lanna sighed. The eight-year-old had also inherited her mother's intelligence and knew that this would be a difficult topic to broach with her parents.

"I want to know why I have two fathers when Kayla, Neville, and Sabastian all have one father," the child elaborated.

"Well, love," Malcolm stuttered, "that's not really true. Neville does have two fathers."

"Yeah," Trip chorused. "And you know, Dr. Phlox's children all have four mothers and at least four fathers."

But the little girl shook her head back and forth forcefully. "Not like I do. Neville has one daddy that helped make him and one that lives with his mommy. But neither of you live with Mommy and both of you helped make me. And I'm not part Denobulan, either."

"T'Lanna, I know we don't visit the planet much, but there are many people on Earth who have two fathersâ€”" Malcolm began, but T'Lanna interrupted him.

"Yes, but their daddies love each other, like Ensign Satchel and Lieutenant Thatcher. You don't love each other that way, do you?" the child protested.

Malcolm snorted. "No bloody way," he muttered. Louder he assured the child, "Your dad and I are good mates and you are right, we don't 'love' each other that way," he began, uncertain how to finish.

"Right," Trip agreed. "But, um, as for how you got here, really, maybe that's a question you should ask your mamaâ€”"

"My daughter may ask me anything she likes, but first I will inquire why she is still awake when her appointed time for sleep was one point three hours ago," a voice interrupted.

"Mommy!" the child exclaimed happily while both Malcolm and Trip released simultaneous breathes of relief.

"Ah, T'Pol, ya came just in time. We were tellin' 'Lanna a bedtime storyâ€”"

"A story that has taken one point three hours to tell?" T'Pol inquired, as she walked over to her daughter's bedside.

"Well, no. Hey, Mal, ya wanna help me out here?" Trip demanded.

With a sigh, Reed continued. "We had already told her two stories, but we agreed to one final story and er. . ."

At his hesitation, T'Pol raised an eyebrow. "What story did you wish to hear, my daughter?" she asked the child.

"I want to know where I come from and how I came to be."

Even T'Pol's Vulcan training had not prepared her for this. Momentarily she paused before sitting down on the edge of T'Lanna's bed. Absently, she ran her fingers through her daughter's dark blonde locks, smoothing the hair behind perfectly pointed Vulcanoid ears. Then, perfectly imitating the gesture the eight year old had made just moments earlier, T'Pol took a deep breathe and squared her shoulders.

"If that is the story you wish, then it is the story you shall have," T'Pol said after a moment. "However, I shall not be telling it alone. Your fathers will assist me in the task," she added, glancing in turn to both Malcolm and Trip.

Ah, hell. That's T'Pol's pissed look. We're gonna get it after this is over, Trip thought to himself. Not daring to further irritate the mother of his daughter, Trip took a seat the end of T'Lanna's bed.

Bloody hell, this is all Tucker's fault, Malcolm thought to himself. I told him she only needed two stories. Still, Malcolm also knew when to admit defeat, and thus, sat down on the opposite side of the bed.

Seeing that they were appropriately settled, T'Pol turned back to T'Lanna and began to speak.

"Eight years, ten months, three weeks and two-point five days ago, The Enterprise encountered the Gabbaccia ship . . . "

The story had taken one hour, fourteen minutes, and thirty-four point six seconds to tell, T'Pol informed Trip and Malcolm once they had again tucked T'Lanna into bed and were standing outside in the corridor. Standing rather uncomfortably together in the corridor.

**How ridiculous**, Trip thought to himself. **After all we've shared together, one little story can still make us this uncomfortable? 'Course, that little story had some mighty big effects on all of us.**

Trip was quite correct in his observation. None of the three were certain exactly what to say.

**Bloody hell, you don't suppose the re-telling of a life altering event had anything to do with our discomfort with each other, do you?** Malcolm mused. A brief moment later Malcolm was glad the thought had remained a thought and not been verbalized. Even Malcolm realized how cynical it may have sounded. **Have I really become more cynical than I used to be? Eight years on a bloody space station will do that to you, I suppose. A bloody **science** station at that.**

T'Pol naturally did not demonstrate the same amount of discomfort externally as her male companions. **Living with humans has for so long has contaminated my logical processes,** she reflected. **Although I am certain that there is a logical and unemotional and entirely appropriate statement which I should make, I cannot fathom what that may be. It is fortunate that I shall not be returning to Vulcan in the foreseeable future.**

"Well, I for one have an early duty shift tomorrow. As it is, I'm not going to be getting much sleep. So, if you'll excuse me, I'll be heading back to my quarters," Malcolm said, clearly feeling uncomfortable as evident by the shift of body weight from his left foot to his right.. "Goodnight, Trip. Good evening, T'Pol."

" ' Night, Mal."

"May your sleep be uneventful." T'Pol did not need to elaborate on her statement. Both Trip and Malcolm understood its unstated meaning. Especially in light of the story they had just told T'Lanna.

With a final nod, Malcolm turned and headed towards his quarters. Trip and T'Pol turned and began walking in the opposite direction to their respective quarters.

Neither made an attempt to converse. T'Pol had known Trip long enough to know when the engineer was trying to broach a subject with her.

**He was not always so cautious when speaking with me,** she reflected. T'Pol was not entirely certain that she appreciated the change. Still, she allowed him the silence he needed to formulate his words.

They came to Trip's quarters first. Clasping her hands behind her back, T'Pol waited patiently for Trip to speak. He did not give cause for disappointment.

"Ya know, T'Pol, I was really surprised at the way you told the story to 'Lanna tonight," he blurted finally. This T'Pol had not expected.

"To what are you referring?" she asked, permitting the surprise she felt to appear in the form of one arched eyebrow.

"Well...uh, I mean, I was expectin' ya to...well, use the policy of 'brutal honesty.' I figured that would be the most 'logical' thing to do," Trip finished scratching his head thoughtfully.

"I surmise you are referring to my exclusions of mentioning the Suliban, the Temporal Cold War, Alanna, or T'Vel?" At Tucker's nod, she inquired simply, "Do you feel that T'Lanna would have benefited in some way from hearing the details of the story which I left out?"

"Noâ€”"

"If you had felt that way, you could have assisted me in the telling of the story. I had requested your and Malcolm's presence explicitly to aide me in the retelling of events." She fixed him with a rather stern look. "Neither of you assisted me."

"AS I WAS SAYIN'," Trip replied, not addressing the nature of T'Pol's complaint, "I figure ya left those things out to protect T'Lanna's feelings."

"She is half-human. As such, she is quite vulnerable to emotions that a full-blooded Vulcan would not be susceptible to."

"So, in other words, yes."

"Yes."

Trip cocked his head and looked at her for a moment. "I didn't think lyin' to protect your kid's feelings was a very Vulcan-like thing to do. Doesn't seem too 'logical'," he remarked, reveling in the rare opportunity to question T'Pol's logic.

T'Pol gave him the patented eyebrow of irritation but answered his question anyway. "On Vulcan we have a saying that 'Sometimes logic fails where my child is concerned.' It applied to the situation. Thus, I used it. "

"What you're sayin', then, is that Vulcan parents are just as emotional asâ€”"

Understanding what Trip was going to imply, T'Pol quickly corrected him.  
"What I am saying, Charles, is that my half-human daughter would have been disturbed by the truth. As her parent, I saw no logic in disturbing her more than necessary."

Trip contemplated briefly with the informing T'Pol that she had just completely and utterly contradicted herself. He finally decided against it. He'd let her win this battle, but store away that particular little weapon and bring it out for the next round.

**Good grief. Am I thinking in terms of battles and weapons now? Way too much male time spent with Malcolm,** Trip decided.

"If that is all, Charles, then I shall be returning to my quarters," T'Pol stated in a less agitated manner than her previous tone had been.

"Okay, good night. Don't let the bed bugs bite."

"I do wish you would refrain from using that phrase. Particularly in front of our daughter. For the past two weeks before she will enter the bed she insists on having her covers and mattress inspected for the so called 'bed bugs.'" T'Pol furrowed her eyebrows together in agitation as Trip tried-unsuccessfully-to stifle a laugh.

"Sorry. That's probably part of her bad human blood, bein' all emotional about bugs that way," he teased.

"Indeed."

"T'Pol," he said more seriously, "do you ever regret the fact that 'Lanna is half human? I mean...do you ever think about how it might be like to have a full blooded Vulcan daughter?"

T'Pol took a deep breathe before replying. Trip waited for it to be accompanied by the squaring of the shoulders, and when that action did not come, he breathed a sigh of relief.

When T'Pol finally spoke, her voice was lower than it had been a moment before. "Do you regret that your daughter is not a full blooded human?" she asked evenly.

"No!" Trip exclaimed emphatically. "I love T'Lanna with all my heart."

"I too am most...gratified...by her presence in my life," T'Pol assured him. "Further, you know as well as I do that my future never included a full-blooded Vulcan offspring."

Trip wondered how and why when they were so far away from Vulcan, the woman still held so strongly to her Vulcan views. Why use gratify? Why not just say what she really meant?

Why not tell the person she loved that she did?

It irritated Tucker. In retaliation, he used the only defense that would work. "Aw, that sounded awfully emotional T'Polâ€”sure your logic isn't failin' ya when it comes to your child?"

The comment had the desired effect. The change in her facial structure changed just enough to let Tucker know he'd won this battle. A passing stranger wouldn't have noticed. But Trip had spent ten years with T'Pol and was able to pick up on the change immediately.

It was a look like no one else had ever given. It simultaneously said she was pissed and she was amused. Along with a bit of 'but the next battle will be mine.'

While her face showed exactly what she was feeling, she refused to verbally acknowledge his victory. Ignoring his comment, she remarked, "Malcolm has an earlier shift than you or I scheduled for tomorrow. I believe it will therefore be your turn to rise T'Lanna?"

**Stupid science stations. Too few crew means we aren't all on specific shifts like we are on star ships.** But Trip decided wisely not to voice that opinion. "Yep, T'Pol, it's my turn. Ya joining us for breakfast?" he inquired.

"Yes, I will have time before my shift starts. Since Malcolm has to miss breakfast, he has arranged to take his lunch during the scheduled school time so that he may spend an extra meal with T'Lanna."

And they would all meet for dinner, of course. Sometimes Trip really struggled to get through those dinners. He loved spending time with Lanna, but looking across the table and seeing T'Pol and Malcolm brought an incredible sense of dj vu of dinners on The Enterprise. Not that he particularly wanted to think about the man Malcolm had replaced. The memory of the last conversation with Jonathan Archer still brought a bitter taste to Trip's mouth.

"Pleasant dreams, T'Pol," he told the mother of his daughter. He half expected her to remark that Vulcans don't dream. An assertion he no longer believed, but that didn't mean she wouldn't try to make him believe it anyway.

Instead she nodded and replied, "You as well" before turning to head for her own quarters.

Neither Trip nor T'Pol had particularly pleasant dreams that evening. For that matter neither did Malcolm. Their dreams consisted mostly of unpleasant memories.

And their dreams didn't leave out any of the details.

Eight years, ten months, three weeks and two-point five days ago..

Captain Jonathan Archer sat in his chair waiting impatiently while T'Pol completed her scans of the alien ship. True, her scans took less time than if anyone else had been performing them, as she had the benefit of Vulcan speed and intelligence. Still, Archer couldn't help but squirm a bit in his chair in anticipation. They were going to make first contact with a species that not even the Vulcans had met yet.

Archer treasured meeting new species more than any other part of space exploration. Discovering new life forms and representing all of Earth provided a thrill like no other. Especially on the occasions in which they were actually friendly.

Especially if they were a race the Vulcans hadn't met yet.

"Captain, the sensors indicate the ship has similar warp drive capability as the Enterprise," T'Pol's voice interrupted Archer's thoughts. "There are ninety-four life signs aboard. All appear to share similar biological construction."  
Archer nodded and turned his attention next to Lieutenant Reed. "How do their weapons look, Malcolm?" he asked the armory officer.

"They appear to have similar phase weaponry, sir. They do not appear to look inordinately advanced. Nothing we can't out-shoot, sir," came the confident reply.

"Hopefully it won't come to that, Lieutenant," Archer responded with a short laugh.

Although Lieutenant Reed would not say it aloud, he briefly considered what type of Captain would take the weaponry of a potential adversary so lightly. Considering the Enterprise's record thus far, Reed believed it fundamentally prudent to take the matter very seriously. They had made far more enemies than friends in their short time in space.

In the absence left by Malcolm's silence, Hoshi Sato joined the conversation. "The aliens are hailing us, Captain."

"On screen, Ensign."

The alien that appeared in front of Archer and crew was humanoid, although vastly different from any type of humanoid the Enterprise had encountered before. The entity stood only at about four feet tall and possessed a long cone shaped head. The green shaped cone was adorned with lavender feathers. A small orange bill sat where the mouth would have been on a human counterpart and completed the bird like picture. Archer half expected a chirp to come out when the alien spoke. Instead, the entity spoke with a deep voice which commanded instant respect regardless of his species' diminutive stature.

"Greetings, Captain. I am Captain Nantuck of the Gabbaccian star ship Letal ."

Archer turned to look towards Hoshi in surprise. These aliens seemed so different in appearance from any they had encountered, he had expected there would be some difficulty in deciphering their language. Yet, the universal translator seemed to pick up their language right away.

"Amazing," the linguist remarked. "Captain, that wasn't the translator. These aliens speak perfect English."

"Ah, yes. We have had dealings with your people before," Nantuck informed them.

Archer realized the moment that Nantuck spoke that he had not properly introduced himself. Feeling a bit silly but now truly intrigued, Archer hastened to make amends. "I'm Captain Jonathan Archer of the Earth Star Ship Enterprise. It's a pleasure to meet you, Captain Nantuck. I am curious as to where you've met my kind before. We're the first Earth star ship to have made it out this far," Archer added, trying not to sound quite as suspicious as he felt.

The alien responded with a brief nod of his head. "I am afraid the Gabbaccians have had space travel for some time, Captain. We have had the pleasure of observing many races that we have not actually had contact with."

"So, you've just been spying on us, then?" Archer posed, feeling a deep surge of resentment at the idea of being watched like some type of science experiment.

"Please do not take offense, Captain," the alien implored. "We are a peaceful people and our past experiences have proven caution to be a valuable tool in making contact with new cultures. Not everyone values peace as we do," Nantuck finished.

The explanation mollified Archer somewhat. "Then why are you contacting us now?" he inquired, his tone showing less agitation than it had previously.

"We may be peaceful, but we are still explorers. We have determined your people to be peaceful as well except in cases of self defense. It brings the Gabbaccian government great pleasure to initiate contact between our peoples."

Archer felt most of the anger drain out of him. These aliens may not have chosen the most polite way of learning about human culture, but they seemed to have the best intentions. Besides, they were fellow explorers.

"On behalf of the people of Earth, I appreciate the amount of trust you're placing in us, Captain Nantuck. Would you and your senior officers care to have dinner on the Enterprise tonight?" Archer suggested.

The Gabbaccian captain nodded his head enthusiastically. "That would be extraordinarily pleasant, Captain," he agreed.

Archer suddenly felt very foolish for having doubted the alien earlier. The Captain seemed so amicable that Archer didn't remember how he could have been suspicious of him just moments prior. "How about 1930 for dinner?" he proposed.  
Nantuck nodded again. Archer reflected that each nod of Nantuck's head made the little alien's whole body shake. "That is most agreeable, Captain Archer. I will be bringing my second in command, my chief physician, my chief engineer and my overly concerned chief of security, if that is acceptable."

Archer chuckled. It brought him a good deal of solace to know that he was not the only Captain in the galaxy plagued by an overly anxious chief of security. A brief glance at Lieutenant Reed confirmed the armory officer's disapproval at this entire strand of conversation. "I understand, Captain Nantuck. I'll gather the same officers. That way we'll have plenty of fodder for conversation."

"Until then, Captain Archer. Letal out."

Archer afforded the screen a short nod before it went black. He then stood and waited for the predictable objections.

"Captainâ€”" T'Pol began but Archer held up a hand to stop her protest. "I know you probably don't approve, T'Pol, but I can't just pass up the opportunity. Besides, the Gabbaccians have done nothing to indicate that they have any malevolent intentions."

"Does spying not constitute 'malevolent'?" T'Pol contradicted.

Crossing his arms across his chest, Archer replied, "Was that the Vulcans' intent during the years they observed humans-to be malevolent?"

"Vulcans did not spy. We initiated contact immediately upon finding human having warp drive technology," was T'Pol's even reply.

"May be these aliens have different standards, T'Pol. We can't judge every alien race by human-or Vulcan-standards." Archer turned to Reed. "I suppose you disapprove as well, Lieutenant?"

Reed's expression was much easier to read than T'Pol's had been, but Archer suspected that their expressions would have been identical, if Vulcans allowed themselves to express emotions more freely. Still, regardless of the tone of his facial expressions, Malcolm made his voice nothing less than the very textbook definition of professional. "I do question whether it is wise to allow such creatures to infiltrate the Enterprise, Sir," he admitted. "Especially allowing their security officer to come aboard seems incredibly risky."

"But you'll be there to protect us, Malcolm," Archer replied and sighed wearily. "I'm going to engineering to alert Trip of our plans." At least he'll not be as pessimistic, Archer thought to himself as he headed towards the turbo lift.

* * *

Irrespective of the protests uttered seven hours prior, Malcolm, T'Pol, Trip and Dr. Phlox waited in the shuttle bay along with Captain Archer for the arrival of the Gabbaccian shuttle pod.

**The four highest ranking officers on board and the only physician all waiting like sitting ducks** Malcolm thought to himself. **Completely improper. If we were to get ambushed...**

But the Captain was not concerned about that possibility. Neither, it appeared, were Commander Tucker or Doctor Phlox, both of whom had expressed only cheerful optimism at the idea of meeting a new alien race. Even an alien race that had confessed to spying on them.

"At least they told us the truth," Trip had remarked. "They coulda lied."

**Well, that makes them completely trustworthy, doesn't it?** Malcolm thought to himself. **They actually had the decency to tell the bloody truth instead of lying to us...well, by all means, let's welcome them with open arms. While we're at it, why not just hand them the phase pistols to shoot us with?** With that thought, Malcolm gripped his own pistol hanging at his side a bit more tightly.

Of course, Phlox was only delighted to be involved in this first contact. The Denobulan was perhaps the entity most interested in meeting other cultures out of the entire ship. Not that Malcolm didn't appreciate meeting new cultures. On the contrary, Reed considered it a major benefit of the Starfleet experience that the Royal Navy did not have. Along with the lack of water, of course.  
Malcolm was as fond of meeting new cultures as any of his colleagues. He just wished they could be a bit more cautious.

At least he'd finally gotten the Captain to agree to posting extra security outside the shuttle bay. A small concession, but one that had taken a great deal of coaxing from both Malcolm and T'Pol. Archer hadn't wanted to make his guests feel uncomfortable once they left the shuttle bay. Eventually, the Captain had agreed but only on the condition that the extra security would try to look as inconspicuous as possible when they left the shuttle bay if there was no perceivable problems. Malcolm had relented, happy at least with the knowledge that they would have back-up if they needed it.

Still, that concession didn't make Malcolm feel a whole lot better. **They ARE still OUT there and we are still IN here.** he reflected. In other words, the back up most likely would not arrive in time if Malcolm's fears were correct.  
**So we'll all die. But my men will insure that the Enterprise will stay safe** Malcolm found that thought somewhat consoling.

"Hey, Mal, what kind of morbid thoughts ya havin' over there?" Trip whispered.

Why he bothered whispering, Malcolm didn't know. After all, the Captain was standing practically right next to him. Only T'Pol stood between them, and Malcolm was rather certain her small frame did nothing to shield the sound of Tucker's comments. A glance from the Captain confirmed that suspicion.

"I am not having any type of 'morbid thoughts.' And please refrain from calling me 'Mal', Commander," Malcolm told Trip.

"I betcha were having morbid thoughts. Ya always do in impending moments of doom, Lieutenant Mal," Trip replied.

"This is not an impending moment of doom, Trip," Captain Archer reminded them exasperatedly. "This is a historic moment of first contact with a seemingly peaceful species."

"Yeah, but Lieutenant Mal is probably not thinkin' like that, are ya?" Trip teased his friend. "He's probably workin' out all kinds of emergency procedures just in case our new friends turn out to be set on sabotaging the Enterprise."

"It has happened before, Commander," Malcolm reminded the engineer.

"Aw, hell, Malcolm. Ya know you're bordering on paranoid, right?" he added.

"I merely wish to be prepared. It is my job to do so, Commander."

"Is it your job to be paranoid, too? Really, Malcolm, I don't know what you're so worried about. The Cap'n tells me our friends are only about four feet tall. I'd say we can take 'em out if they try anything tricky."

"It is not wise to dismiss our visitors' potential strength due to their diminutive stature, Commander Tucker," T'Pol remarked. "I am after all quite smaller than you in size but as I am a Vulcan, I have twice the strength as you. In fact, I can render you unconscious with a single pinch to the neck."

Trip turned to look at her in amazement. "Do ya think about that often, T'Pol?" he asked.

"I find great consolation in the fact when you are behaving most illogically and overly emotional," T'Pol informed him.

"In other words, very often, Trip," Malcolm remarked.

"Snarky bastard," Trip grumbled.

"All right you three, that's enough. Our guests just arrived," Captain Archer said, putting an end to their banter. Privately, he understood that their banter was a positive sign of a growing friendship. This quite pleased the Captain, especially in the case of Malcolm and T'Pol, who weren't exactly the most outgoing members of his crew. Still, it was doubtful if the Gabbaccians would completely understand the idea of friends calling other friends "snarky bastards."

Archer opened the door that lead to the landing area once the shuttle had safely landed.

As he did so, the shuttle pod slowly opened and out came five nearly identical Gabbaccians, lead by Nantuck. Nantuck wore a long green robe, while his companions all wore much shorter blue robes. Archer surmised that it must have been a way to indicate Nantuck's rank, as there were no other visible insignias present. For that matter, there were no outward sign of gender differences either.

**Perhaps Nantuck doesn't have any female senior officers** Archer contemplated. **Either that, or there's a difference that I just can't pick up.**

"Welcome to the Enterprise, Captain Nantuck," Archer said, extending his right hand. Nantuck took it with little hesitation. While the hand structure was similar to humans, Archer was amazed to discover that in place of finger nails, the Gabbaccians had very sharp talons.

"Thank you, Captain Archer. Allow me to introduce my crew," Nantuck said as the other four Gabbaccians came to stand beside him. "My second in command, Commander Lyceum; my chief of security, Lieutenant Jennair; my chief engineer, Lieutenant Sodan, and my chief physician, Dr. Aron."

The four subordinate Gabbaccians nodded politely and extended their hands. After a brief pause, their Enterprise counterparts reached forth to return the gesture, including T'Pol, Archer noticed impressively.

"These is first officer Sub-Commander T'Pol; chief engineer Lt. Commander Charles Tucker III; chief of security Lieutenant Reed, and our physician, Doctor Phlox," Archer introduced them. By the time he was finished, the two crews had finished shaking hands except for T'Pol and Lyceum. Lyceum had wrapped both hands around the Vulcan's and was staring at her intently.

**Poor T'Pol. She must be hatin' that** Trip thought somewhat sympathetically. Then remembering exactly how she had rejected his first attempt at a handshake, he stifled a laugh and decided to enjoy the view. **After all, her other hand's free. She can always "render him unconscious" with one pinch, right?**

"Commander Lyceum," Nantuck said firmly, "let go of the Sub-Commander's hand."  
Lyceum let go quickly at the sound of Nantuck's voice. "I apologize, Captain Nantuck," he professed. "And to you as well, Sub-Commander," he added to T'Pol.  
T'Pol simply took a step backward and away from the offending creature.

Sensing the unease from T'Pol as well as the questioning look from Captain Archer, Nantuck sighed. "I apologize for my insubordinate's behavior, Captain Archer. He's just a bit overwhelmed at such a sight."

"You have not encountered Vulcans in your travels?" Archer asked skeptically. Vulcans had been in space for so long it seemed nearly impossible to fathom that someone knew of humans but had not met their pointed ear counterparts.

"Oh, no. We've...encountered...the Vulcans," Nantuck assured him. "It's not the species that fascinates Lyceum."

"Then what is it?" Archer wondered.

"It's her gender. You see, there are no female Gabbaccians and haven't been for the past two hundred years."

//They do not trust us// Jennair told his Captain.

//Because of Lyceum's indiscretion?// inquired Nantuck.

//No. It is because of our lack of females. They are wondering how we reproduce without a child-bearing gender.// the security officer relayed to the Captain.

//Ethnocentric creatures// scoffed Lyceum. //Do they truly believe that everyone in the galaxy reproduces as they do?//

//It is not entirely ethnocentric of them//argued Dr. Aron. //Most humanoids do reproduce sexually. As did we before the extermination.//

//Perhaps we should reassure them?// suggested Sodan.

//And how would we explain Jennair's ability to read their minds? Or our ability to telepathically communicate with each other?// Nantuck remarked.

//True. It is best to allow them to ask if they are so inclined.// agreed the Gabbaccian engineer.

//If they do ask, what do you propose we tell them?//inquired the security officer. //I hardly believe it appropriate to tell them the truth.//

//I am certain the doctor can come up with a pleasantry to suit them// replied the Captain.

//I shall// came the reply.

The Enterprise crew, of course, had no concept of the conversation going on in their presence as the two crews walked in what Archer's crew believed to be amicable silence to the Captain's Mess.

As they passed several security teams on their way, Nantuck remarked, "Oh, Captain Archer, these must be more of your security forces."

Archer cringed slightly. "Yes they are. I hope you do not take offense. They are a precautionary measure only."

"It is best to be prepared," Jennair remarked. Turning towards Malcolm he commented, "I see you have better luck in persuading your Captain to accept proper security protocols than I do."

//I believe I am allowing you to do your job quite well on this mission, Jennair// noted the Gabbaccian Captain amusedly.

//Yes, but in order for our mission to succeed, they must trust us. They do not yet, especially this one.//

//I see. And feigning similar emotions will help strengthen that trust?//

//I believe so.//

**I am not the only armory officer in the galaxy who must contend with a Captain unconcerned by security protocol** mused Malcolm to himself. The thought brought him a great sense of relief. Habitually, Malcolm was concerned whether his dissatisfaction with Captain Archer's tactics bordered on mutiny. Or at the very least, insubordination. Either way, the lieutenant figured, neither action was becoming of a Reed. **Then again, neither is such a lax security protocol as the Captain would like to have.** Although Malcolm felt an instant kindredness with Jennair, he did not believe it proper to trust him one hundred percent. Not yet.

"It is my duty to worry about the security measures so that the Captain does not have to," was all that Malcolm would concede. True, the answer had very little to do with Jennair's question, but the armory officer certainly was not going to admit to a foreign security chief that Archer tended to place little emphasis on Enterprise's security. Or at least, little emphasis from Malcolm's point of view.

Jennair found Malcom's inner turmoil to be absolutely fascinating. As they entered the necessarily expanded Captain's Mess, Jennair remarked to his Captain //His sense of loyalty and dedication to his job are both extraordinary.//

//Ah, then he shall be an excellent specimen// Nantuck told his security officer. Out loud he inquired of Captain Archer, "Where would you like us to sit, Captain?"

**These must be the most polite aliens we've encountered yet,** mused Archer to himself. "I thought it best if we sat at alternating seats at the table, next to our counterparts," he told the Gabbaccian Captain.

"Excellent. That shall make conversation between us so much easier," Nantuck nodded agreeably.

With a wave of his hand, Archer motioned for his own crew to sit down and the Gabbaccians followed suit.

"So, I don't mean this to be rude or anything, Cap'n, but if ya don't have any females, how exactly do ya reproduce?" Trip inquired.

**How typical of humans to bring up something so very inappropriate during first contact,** thought T'Pol to herself. Out loud, she remarked only, "That is hardly an appropriate subject matter for conversation, Commander Tucker."

//Fascinating. The Vulcan is disapproving of humankind.// remarked Jennair to Nantuck.

//Disapproving?// Nantuck asked in confusion. //Are you certain? That is incongruous with the Vulcans we know.//

//She believes them to be not only illogical, but uncouth// Jennair informed him.

"I am not offended, Sub-Commander," Nantuck reassured T'Pol. "I understand it must cause the crew some confusion, as most humanoids we've encountered reproduce sexually. I assume that goes for both Vulcans and humans?"

"Yes," was T'Pol's only verbal response. Privately, she thought **Not only do they deem it appropriate to discuss their own mating habits, but they deem it appropriate to discuss others' as well. Most unacceptable.**

"Ah, yes. I believe the Vulcan mating ritual is called pon far," Dr. Aron commented.

"Private mating rituals are not something we discuss with Non-Vulcans," T'Pol answered.

"Private mating rituals, huh? That sounds awfully emotional, T'Pol," Trip teased.

"I assure you, Commander Tucker, Vulcan mating rituals are infinitely less emotional than human mating," T'Pol responded.

"Oh? From what we have observed, that isn't true," Dr. Aron remarked cheerfully.

Archer had served with T'Pol long enough to know when she was getting dangerously close to experiencing something akin to anger. Now was undeniably one of those times. He decided to interject before the conversation could escalate to an unpleasant place. "In any event, T'Pol, the galaxy is not divided into humans and Vulcans," he remarked sharply, trying to both curb the conversation away from disaster and remind her of the importance of not irritating their guests.

"I am certain the Sub-Commander is aware of that, Captain," remarked Nantuck. "The Vulcans have a term, IDIC, which identifies just that."

"IDIC? What's that stand for? If you can tell us, that is," Trip grinned at the Vulcan.

"As it does not concern private Vulcan matters, then yes, I can tell you," T'Pol responded. "IDIC stands for Infinite Diversity in Infinite Combinations and has been the guiding principle behind Vulcan space exploration."

Nantuck nodded and continued, "We do not reproduce sexually. It is a rather complicated procedure. Perhaps it would be best if the doctor explained it."

//Fascinating. As much as I hate the Vulcans, I cannot deny the incredible nature of this one's mind. She has just mentally reviewed all of the known species that reproduce asexually and have determined us to be too advanced to reproduce asexually.// Jennair informed his comrades.

//She and Lieutenant Reed are very compatible, then?// inquired Nantuck.  
//Definitely. Although neither shall be an easy conquest.// worried the security chief. Then he paused.

"Our genetic engineering programs are quite advanced. When a male Gabbaccian wishes to undergo fatherhood, he goes to a clinic where he donates his genetic material. This genetic material and his background check are check are then cross-listed with those in our database. When a proper match is found, then the material is combined. The child grows in a holding cell. There is no need for a female to bear the child."

//Hmm...that is interesting. For some reason, the engineer is thinking of the Xyrillians.// noted Jennair.

//They still exist in this time period?// exclaimed Lyceum in astonishment.

//Apparently.//

"Sounds pretty complicated," remarked Trip.

"Indeed it is," agreed Nantuck. "I hope it helps you to appreciate the easy with which your species can sexually reproduce, Commander Tucker."

"Yes. We are quite envious," Jennair added.

At Trip's blush, Archer had to chuckle softly to himself. **Polite, friendly, and a sense of humor.** he thought. **I couldn't ask for a better first contact.**  
His thought process was interrupted by the arrival of their food.

* * *

The dinner, reflected Archer, was proceeding even better than could be expected. Although the whole "how do you reproduce" conversation had proved somewhat disconcerting, and a tad uncomfortable, the atmosphere had cleared and Archer noted with pride the ease with which his officers were conversing. T'Pol was somewhat of an exception, of course, and Archer planned to speak with her about her reserved nature as soon as their guests departed. Even Malcolm, his typically reclusive armory officer, was chatting intensely with Jennair. Captain Nantuck was similarly pleased with his security chief, albeit for entirely different motives.

* * *

"A navy?" inquired Jennair. "What exactly is a navy?"

Malcolm stared at the man a moment. **How could you observe humans well enough to know our language perfectly but not have any concept of their navy?** Out loud he explained, "A navy is a fleet of ships for the sea."

//Ah, the young lieutenant comes from a long line of service men// Jennair noted to the Captain.

//Determine the precise nature of this navy.// instructed Nantuck.

"We do not have any such equivalent on our world," explained Jennair to the disbelieving Malcolm. "Our seas are not quite large enough for a fleet, I suppose. What purpose does a naval fleet hold?"

"They are primarily a defense measure."

"Then this navy...is an aggressive force?"

"It can be-when the goal is to defend and something or someone is interfering in the safety of their target," replied Malcolm, feeling the ever so familiar strain of both pride and agitation at his family heritage.

//He claims this navy is a defensive measure...but I sense it can be a violent organization as well.// relayed Jennair to his C.O.

//Excellent. Discover his weakness.//

"If you do not find it intrusive, Lieutenant, may I inquire something of your relationships with fellow crewmembers?" Jennair asked politely.

Malcolm bristled with the thought. "It depends on the nature of your inquiry," he replied briskly.

"I merely have noticed your Captain's tendency to address you by first name and tendencies among the crew to repeat such actions. Is this type of...fraternization common among human crews?"

"Not in the navy," came Malcolm's automatic response. Then he added, "The laws regarding fraternization are left up to the Captain to determine. Captain Archer takes a somewhat more laid back approach." **Too bloody laid back, sometimes** Malcolm finished silently.

//Finding a weakness may be difficult, Captain. This one is tough both physically and mentally. He believes in strict regimentation of lifestyle.//

//All humans have weaknesses. He must. Even the Vulcan female does and we know they are little more than walking computers.// noted Nantuck with venom that would have surprised his company, had they been able to hear it.

"Hmm...I find friendships to be somewhat disruptive at times to the security protocol. Friendship ideology can be distracting, I have found," Jennair smiled at the agreement he sensed in Malcolm. //Foolish human//

//Now, now, Jennair, you must not be so critical of them. They are after all, not responsible for their own inferiority.// criticized the Doctor.

//I suppose not. But it does not change the fact that...hmmm...intriguing.//

//What?// inquired Nantuck.

//The lieutenant is having a memory...he is on a shuttle pod, hunched in a blanket sitting next to Commander Tucker.//

//Why is he on the shuttle pod?//demanded Lyceum.

//It is difficult to ascertain. They believe death to be imminent...are making their farewells...sharing their alcohol...I believe the lieutenant considers Tucker to be a friend./

//Commander Tucker? Did we not determine him to be a weakness for the Vulcan as well?// asked Nantuck.

//Yes, we did. Intriguing that they share a similar weak spot.//

//All the better for us.// agreed his Captain.

"I don't know, Jennair. Sometimes friendships are not entirely bad," Malcolm informed the alien sitting across from him.

"No," Jennair remarked kindly. "Some friendships are very good indeed."

* * *

//What is your analysis of the engineer?// asked Jennair of Sodan.

//I find him highly annoying with a strange capacity to discuss irrelevant factors.// replied Sodan.

//Irrelevant? He is an engineer. Have you not found common ground?//

//No. Our technology is much more advanced than theirs, after all.//

//Yes, but they do not know that, Sodan.//

"It's real interestin' that you guys only eat meat, Sodan," Trip mentioned, oblivious to the close scrutiny his character was receiving.

"Interesting? In what way, Commander?"

"Well, the Vulcans for example, they're all vegetarians. I've met other vegetarians before, but no other meat eaters only."

"Gabbaccians are not Vulcans, Commander," Sodan made his statement a bit more harshly than he had intended.

"Do you have somethin' against the Vulcans?" Trip asked his engineering colleague. There was just as much edge to his voice as there had been to Sodan's only moments before.

"No, Commander, I do not."

"That's good...cuz they ain't all bad, ya know. Hell, I've been frustrated with some of 'em before, but if knowin' T'Pol's done anything, it's taught me that I've been entirely too ethnocentric in my thinkin' towards the Vulcans."

"I see. She is your friend, then?"

"Yep. In fact, all of the Enterprise crew members in this room are."

//Fascinating.// noted Jennair.

//You have a strange fixation with that word, Jennair. What do you find 'fascinating' this time? Or fascinatin', as my dear friend Commander Tucker would say?//

//The man's capacity to care...I don't think we've seen anything like it in all our travels.// remarked Jennair.

* * *

A third member of the Gabbaccian crew was listening to the conversation, much more quietly.

"You have seemed somewhat quiet this evening, Dr. Aron," observed the Denobulan physician. "Are you ill?"

"No, not at all, Dr. Phlox. I simply enjoy watching cultural interactions more than I enjoy taking an active role in them," the physician noted.

"Ah, yes. Cultural interaction is one of the biggest draws to working in space," Phlox remarked cheerfully. "The interactions are secondary only to my ability as a physician to heal the injured in the list of things I enjoy."

**Then I envy you on both accounts.** thought Dr. Aron to himself.

* * *

The dinner was interrupted by a very nervous Travis Mayweather's voice on the Comm Unit. "Mayweather to Captain Archer."

Archer paused in his conversation with Nantuck. "Excuse me, Captain," he said apologetically. "Go ahead, Ensign."

"I'm sorry to disturb you, sir, but there's a ship that um, just appeared in front of us."

Archer could hear the hesitation in the helmsman's voice. "Ship's don't just 'appear', Travis," he reminded Mayweather.

"I realize that, Sir, but this one did. I don't know quite how to explain it."

"Have you identified them?"

"They have identified themselves as the Suliban. The good news is that they insist they have no interest in us, but sensors indicate they have aimed their weapons towards the Gabbaccian ship."

"Understood. Archer out. Sorry to cut this dinner short, gentlemen, but I have to get to the bridge. It seems our enemies will prevent us from enjoying whatever dessert Chef cooked up."

"But Captain, your ship isn't under any danger. There is no need for you to interrupt your food consumption. We will fly back to our ship in our shuttle pod."

"The Suliban would be able to destroy you easily in a shuttle pod," Malcolm pointed out.

Archer nodded, for once in agreement with his armory officer. "They'll be outnumbered if your ship and mine join forces, however," he told them.

Nantuck nodded, as they began to head for the bridge. "Your kindness is most extraordinary, Captain Archer. I thank you for your assistance."

"There's no need to thank me, Nantuck. After all, we're allies. Friends," Archer responded.

"And as friends we give each other help whenever the other needs it," Trip told them as they stepped onto the turbo lift.

//And you shall assist us in an even greater capacity later, Commander Tucker.// thought Nantuck. His Gabbaccian companions shared a mental laugh, unheard by the Enterprise crew.

* * *

"Hail them, Hoshi. Tell them to back off the Gabbaccian ship or we'll open fire," Captain Archer instructed.

"Aye, sir." There was a momentary pause during which the aliens communicated with each other.

//It is agreed then, that we shall take the security officer and the science officer?// inquired Nantuck.

//I believe them to be the most qualified for our purposes, Captain.// responded his security officer.

//Indeed. Note the dedication to their posts.// agreed Lyceum.

//And the lieutenant has expressed the thought that we are moving too slow.// Jennair confirmed.

//Indeed?// asked Nantuck.

//Yes. His exact thought was 'Why hail them? We already know their intentions.'// Jennair mused.

"There is no response to our hails, Captain," Hoshi informed Archer.

"Shall I fire weapons now, Captain?" asked Malcolm.

//A bit hasty, isn't he?// asked Lyceum.

//Yes, but the Vulcan's slower methodology will help to curb his hastiness.// Nantuck argued. //Besides, a killer has to be decisive in his actions, Commander.//

"Fire a warning shot, Malcolm. Nothing that will damage them too badly," commanded Archer.

**A warning shot? Bugger. It's the Suliban, for bloody goodness' sakes.** Malcolm groaned inwardly, but followed Archer's orders.

"Direct hit, sir," Malcolm reported.

* * *

The United Earth Star Ship Cochrane, 45 years in the future:

The female Captain paced anxiously on the bridge of her battle weary ship. "Damage report, Lieutenant," she instructed the only other still standing senior officer.

The Gabbaccian science officer shook his head. "Warp drive is off line, as is impulse power. Shields are inoperable. All decks report heavy casualties, life support is down to 25 percent, neither long nor short range sensors are functioning."

"In short, we're dead in the water," the Captain finished.

"More appropriately, dead in space."

"Damn it! We were so close to stopping them." The frustration in the Captain's voice was not appropriate for a commanding officer but her science officer overlooked her lack of professionalism. Given the circumstances, it was certainly understandable.

"I still am uncertain why we are worried about the Suliban, Captain. After all, it was the Gabbaccians thatâ€”" began a nervous helmsman as he struggled off the floor and back onto his post.

The Captain waved off her helmsman's complaint. "I'm well aware of the role the Gabbaccians have played, Ensign. I do not need to be reminded. It was Suliban interference that lead Archer to allow T'Pol, Reed, and Tucker to go onto the foreign ship. Besides, you know how heavily guarded the Gabbaccian sector of the quadrant is. There's no way we could have gotten through their defenses." She paused before continuing."We believed stopping the Gabbaccians' co-conspirators to be a better option."

"There is another alternative, Captain," spoke up Lt. Leland.

The Captain turned to face her Gabbaccian science officer. "I'm all ears, Lieutenant."

"We go back in time to stop them."

"How do you propose we do that? We can't even move foreword in our own time," The Captain snapped.

"The damages are fixable," the Gabbaccian replied calmly.

"But how long will that take?"

"That is irrelevant. Regardless of how long it may take us, we can still go backward in time to the exact moment of contact between the Gabbaccians, Suliban and Enterprise," Leland pointed out.

"Of course, time travel by Earth vessels is punishable by death," the Captain mused.

"If we are successful, Captain, then the event that lead to that law will not occur," Leland reminded her.

The Captain nodded and headed towards the turbo lift. "I'm going to the engine room. Leland, you get the weapons back on line and I'll worry about the warp core." She flashed them a grin. "Don't worry, gentlemen. I come from the very best stock of engineers."

After she was gone, the helmsman turned to look at the science officer. "She does realize that if we're successful, she'll cease to exist?" he asked timidly.  
Leland sighed. "Yes, Ensign, she understands that perfectly. It's a sacrifice she's willing to make."

* * *

The Enterprise.

"The Suliban are retreating, Captain," Malcolm informed the Captain.

"Most intriguing. It is not like them to retreat so easily," remarked T'Pol.

Archer cocked his head and grinned at his science officer. "I'm not one to look a gift horse in the mouth, Sub-Commander. While I do appreciate their leaving, they didn't exit before getting in a parting shot at our friends. Hoshi, hail the Gabbaccians to inquire what type of assistance they require."

"There's no response, Captain. Their comm. system seems to be down."

"I believe it safe to depart now, Captain Archer. I thank you for your hospitality but I must get back to my ship to see how badly damaged it is," Nantuck spoke up.

Archer nodded. "Please let us know if you need further assistance. Be it either personnel or supplies."

Nantuck nodded. "I shall, my friends, I shall."

"I'll escort you to the launching bay," Archer said amicably.

* * *

The Cochrane.

The crew had been reduced to less than 50, making the necessary repairs seemingly futile. Still, the Captain pressed on. Too much was at stake to quit now.

The Quadruple Alliance, as led by T'Vel, had successfully destroyed an entire planet.

It was hard to believe that Vulcan was gone. Her partial home world wiped from the face of existence. Earth would be next. Not that its current state was much better. Still, its complete destruction...

Alanna would not allow it.

* * *

The Enterprise

"We're being hailed, sir, by the Gabbaccians. Audio only." Hoshi told the Captain.

"Put it through, Ensign."

"Captain Archer, this is Captain Nantuck. Our science, engineering, and security systems are in dire need of repairs. Our crew has been reduced by nearly a third. If you could spare perhaps Lt. Reed, Sub-Commander T'Pol and Lt. Cmdr. Tucker, we would be greatly appreciative."

"Hoshi, send a reply that they're on their way," Archer told her.

* * *

The Cochrane.

"Do you have the calculations required for time travel, Lt. Leland?" inquired the Captain.

"Yes. I am putting them into the ship's computers now," came the reply.

The Captain turned to look at her science officer, hearing the sadness in his voice. Leland may have been a traitor to his people, but the Captain knew he was as loyal as they came to her and her ship.

"It's for the best, Leland," she told him softly. "You know what your father said about T'Vel and my birth."

"Yes," the Gabbaccian nodded. "Neither was supposed to happen."

The Captain turned and looked at the screen in front of her. "And we are going to right that wrong. Regardless of the price we may pay for it."

**

The Letal

As T'Pol, Trip, and Malcolm descended from their shuttlepod, they were greeted with a flash of phaser fire.

Jennair smiled to himself. **Your security protocol didn't quite prepare you for that, did it, Lt. Reed?** he smirked as he instructed his own security force to remove the Enterprise crew members to separate holding cells.

//I still do not understand why we needed to bring the insufferable Commander Tucker along as well.// stated his companion, Sodan.

//He is the weak spot// replied Jennair.

//And we need a weak spot why?//

//The Sub-Commander and Lt. Reed are very resourceful individuals. Their struggles to escape will be sufficiently less if we have him sufficiently in harm's way.//

Sodan mentally smiled. //There will be torture involved?//

Jennair chuckled. //Perhaps. //

//I wish to be involved in such activities.//

"Nantuck to Jennair."

"Jennair here. The mission was successful, Captain."

"Good work, Lieutenant. Next on your list of things to do should be to rid ourselves of Lyceum, for his indiscretion on the enemy's ship."

"Understood. Jennair out."

Captain Nantuck turned towards his helmsman. "You have the coordinates, Ensign. Get us out of here. Warp 10."

* * *

The Enterprise

Captain Archer stared at the screen for a moment, still not believing what his crew had told him. "Warp 10? That's impossible. Our sensors indicated they had similar warp capabilities as our own."

"Apparently, our sensors were wrong," replied Travis.

Archer chose to ignore that comment and asked instead, "Travis, do you have any idea where they are headed?"

"Aye, sir. We can follow their trail, but at Warp 10..."

The Ensign didn't have to continue. Archer knew the unfinished truth. **We'll never see them again.**

Guilt washed over him in waves. Malcolm's unheeded warnings echoed in his head, alongside of T'Pol's disapproval. **They were right** the Captain realized sorrowfully. And then there was Trip. **My best friend. I'll never see him again.**

The thought was too much for the Captain to bear. Stumbling, he made his way to his chair. His body fell into the seat, without a conscious effort on Archer's behalf.

Ensign Cromwell, who was filling in for T'Pol, perhaps permanently, broke Archer's reverie. "Captain, sensors indicate a ship approaching. Bearingâ€”"

"Is it the Gabbaccians?" Archer demanded.

"No, sir. It appears to be...similar in design to the Enterprise."

"That's what we thought about the Gabbaccians, too," Archer snapped. **Really, Jon, don't take it out on the Ensign. Your poor command decisions weren't his fault.** he chided himself.

"No, sir. I don't mean they have similar functions. I mean the actual design...The ship itself is nearly a replica of the Enterprise's design," the Ensign replied.

"Sir, they're hailing us," Hoshi Sato chimed in.

"On screen," the Captain said wearily.

Archer wasn't certain, but he could have sworn the woman who materialized in front of him was the spitting image of Trip. The minor difference were her eyes, which were dark brown instead of Trip's bright blue. **Of course, maybe it's just my wishful thinking,** Archer reflected.

"Greetings, Captain Archer," the woman began.

"How do you know who I am?" the Captain demanded.

"We do not have time to discuss that. Have you encountered the Gabbaccians yet?" asked the woman.

Archer stood up. "Yes, we have. They've kidnapped three of my crew. Do you know of them?"

In reply, the screen went black, signifying ending of the transmission. Within moments after ending the transmission, the new ship headed off in the same direction as the Gabbaccians just a moment before.

"Travis, lay in a course to follow those ships," Archer instructed.

"Aye, sir."

**I only hope they slow down eventually. Otherwise, we'll never see them again.** Archer thought.

* * *

The Cochrane

Alanna sat in her ready room, staring at two holopictures. One was of a man she had never met yet owed her life to. The other was a man she owed her life to, and had lost many years ago.

One had her very familiar features, the other shared the same features as Alanna's science officer. Both, she knew, had been selfless and sacrificing. One had died protecting his fellow crewmembers, the other had been tortured for treason so that she and his son could escape Gabbaccian imprisionment.

Alanna never looked at holopictures of her mother. It would prove too painful. She had been on Vulcan at the time of the extermination.

**I only hope we aren't too late.** Alanna wished desperately. Their coordinates had been off, just slightly. But enough to matter, nonetheless. They may have traveled back in time for nothing. Their attempts to right the Gabbaccians' wrongs may prove to be futile. And they didn't have enough power to attempt another leap.

The Letal

**Cold.** It was the first conscious thought Malcolm had. It was quickly followed by the realization that he was unable to move. His third cognitive process was the extreme headache throbbing at his temples.

Opening his eyes, he found reasons to explain two of the three variables. His coldness could be explained due to the fact that he was no longer wearing his uniform. Instead, he had for some reason been reduced to only his regulation issued blue skivvies. The immovability could be explained by the shackles binding both his hands and feet to the very cold metal table on which Malcolm's body had been previously laid horizontally.

The same entities that had decided to fasten Malcolm to the table and, he deduced, undressed him, had also made certain that his bonds were just tight enough to be neither comfortable nor painful. Instead, Malcolm was in a state of uncomfortable limbo between the two conditions. Similarly, his body had been stretched to an unnatural state of length without inciting actual pain. While Malcolm immediately thought of the medieval stretching devices he had read about as a child, he realized that was more than a slight over-reaction.

**Psychological warfare,** Malcolm noted. **A constant reminder that our captors are in control of making the decisions. Reinforcing our knowledge that they determine our comfort level. They hold the fate of our existence in their very hands.**

Effective, Malcolm acknowledged. Barbaric, but effective.

Turning his head-the only part of his body he could still move freelyâ€”slightly to the left he immediately noticed the sleeping form of Sub-Commander T'Pol. **The Gabbaccian ship,** Malcolm remembered somewhat hazily. They were on route to the Gabbaccian ship to help them. How then did they end up here?

Recalling who else had been on that mission, Malcolm glanced about the room for some sign of Trip. Finding none, he realized it prudent to try to wake the Vulcan at his side.

"Sub-Commander," he whispered, not wanting to alert whoever their captors may have been. When T'Pol did not awaken, he raised his voice slightly and repeated his call. Still, she did not awaken. Frowning slightly, Malcolm repeated the process multiple times until he was speaking in his normal speaking tone. The only sound made by the Vulcan was the sound of her labored breaths. **Damn it,** thought hopelessly as he laid his head back down on the cold metal in a gesture of hopelessness.

From their watchful position in the adjoining room, Nantuck and Jennair watched Malcolm's waking and ensuing defeat with interest.

//I did not expect him to forfeit so easily//Nantuck remarked.

//The phaser fire we stunned them with was unfortunately quite powerful. Perhaps too powerful. I expect he is still somewhat confused by the events.// Jennair replied.

//Then you anticipate his struggle to begin soon?//

//Yes.//

//And is Commander Tucker adequately prepared to prevent such measures?//

//Sodan is taking personal responsibility for that project.//

//Excellent. I am going back to the bridge. Call me when the other one awakens.//

* * *

On a separate deck in the Gabbaccian ship, Trip was waking to experience the same sensations of coldness, immobility, and residual headache. Unlike Malcolm, however, Trip was not experiencing any feelings of loneliness. The first sight to greet him in his conscious state was the face of a Gabbaccian.

**Which one is it?** Trip wondered. A glance at the robe revealed that it was not Nantuck. **There has to be some way to tell them apart, but I'll be damned if I know what it is.**

"Greetings, Commander Tucker. Did you have a nice nap?" the Gabbaccian asked.

"Just fine. I take it the engine trouble ya had is all cleared up?" Trip retorted.

"Such spirit, Commander Tucker. Spirit I look forward to breaking." The malevolence evident in the Gabbaccian's voice elicited a feeling of dread deep within the pit of Trip's stomach.

"Where are Malcolm and T'Pol?" he demanded, trying to overlook the trepidation that was beginning to manifest itself within his brain.

The Gabbaccian laughed in response. "Do not worry about your colleagues, Commander Tucker. The doctor, Nantuck, and Jennair are all keeping them company. And as we greatly value the DNA of Lieutenant Reed and Sub-Commander T'Pol, they will be treated comparatively well."

"Comparatively?" Trip questioned. "Just what the hell does that mean?"

The Gabbaccian leaned forward so that his face was only inches from Trip's. "It means compared to your circumstances," he replied as he ran a talon down Trip's cheek which was enough to draw a light trickle of blood. Trip gritted his teeth, determined not to show how much that hurt.

The Gabbaccian laughed again. "Yes," he remarked disdainfully. "Such spirit."

* * *

Faintly, T'Pol could hear the sound of her name being called. Who was it that was calling? The Captain? No. Commander Tucker? No. Lt. Reed? Yes. The British accent should have made it clear who was speaking right away, yet why did she have such difficulty determining the identity of the speaker?

The tone of Lt. Reed's voice was one of concern. The normally calm and collected armory officer sounded nervous, almost frightened. Perhaps it was the out of character emotionalism being displayed by the normally rational security officer that finally convinced T'Pol's subconscious that the situation was dire enough to warrant waking up.

Opening her eyes, her meticulous science officer's training took in the contents of the room. The room she was beginning held captive in contained no color. The walls, ceilings, and doors were all a spotless white. The glare of the illumination devices served only to accent their whiteness and, if possible, to make them even more white. There seemed to be no other devices in the room, except for the beds that she and Lt. Reed were strapped too. A small window sat approximately 10 feet above them on the left wall. T'Pol could not discern exactly what purpose it served. However, she surmised it to be some type of observation room.

"T'Pol?"

"I am awake, Lieutenant," she responded. "Are you injured?"

"No," Malcolm responded, sounding a bit relieved now that she had awoken.

"Have you been able to ascertain where we are?" she inquired.

"No. I recall that we took a shuttlepod to the Gabbaccian ship and docked in their docking bay," Malcolm recalled. "And that's the last thing I remember."

"My recollection of events is similar to yours," T'Pol agreed.

"Then I suppose the Gabbaccians were not as friendly as they had lead us to believe?" Malcolm guessed.

"It would appear not."

"Bugger."

T'Pol again marveled at the human tendency to use colorful language in situations of crisis. Ignoring it, she replied, "Perhaps our time should be spending our time trying to determine how to escape." As T'Pol said these words, their metal beds shifted slightly, so that they were now lying perpendicular to the floor instead of their previous horizontal position. A floor, which, T'Pol noted, maintained the sterile whiteness of the walls and ceiling. On the wall in front of them appeared a projection of Commander Tucker and a Gabbaccian.

"Trip?" asked Malcolm in disbelief. There were no devices from which to show such an advanced form of projection visible in the room.

"He cannot hear you, Lieutenant," said the voice of Jennair. A quick glance at the window above them confirmed that the Gabbaccian was watching them.  
"However, if you make any attempts to escape, he will be punished for it."

In frustration, Malcolm curled his fist. The action caused the muscles in his wrists to impart friction against his binds which set of a small alarm.

On the screen in front of him, the Gabbaccian placed a leech like object on Trip's left temple. As the animal began to suck greedily, Trip's body contorted with pain. Although he tried very hard to refrain from doing so, Trip was not able to prevent a tiny shriek of agony from escaping his lips.

Malcolm unclenched his fists immediately. As he did so, the alarm stopped ringing and the Sodan removed the leech from Trip's temples, pulling off a good portion of flesh as he did so, eliciting another moan of pain from Trip.

"Did you like our little pet, my allies?" Jennair asked his prisoners. "It may look like a harmless little leech to you, but is much more. It simultaneously releases powerful electrical shocks through its orifices as it consumes blood, thereby making its prey progressively weaker and weaker. It is fortunate you unclenched your fists, Lieutenant. Gabbaccian leeches can cause death within 10 minutes to an adult human." He allowed himself a short laugh before adding, "Even our leeches are superior to yours."

It required all of Malcolm's previous training to force himself to not respond verbally against with the injustice and anger he felt. Regardless, Jennair was able to benefit from the fervent hostility reverberating in Malcolm's mind. T'Pol's abhorrence was more mentally concealed but just as intense.

"Truly, Sub-Commander, I did not believe Vulcans were supposed to have such strong feelings," he scoffed at the woman. At T'Pol's silence, he added, "It is no matter. The emotions of both you and Lt. Reed shall benefit the Gabbaccian empire well."

"In what way do you propose to use our perceived emotions as a benefit to your empire?" T'Pol demanded.

"Perhaps I should answer that instead," chimed the voice of Nantuck. Turning their heads, T'Pol and Malcolm saw the white door swish open to reveal an equally white hallway briefly as Nantuck and Dr. Aron entered the holding area.

"Captain Nantuck, I demand you let us go and return us to the Enterprise," T'Pol stated. True, she recognized the futility of such a request. Still, it was one that must be made.

//Audacious, isn't she?//Nantuck jeered mentally.

//Yes, but aren't all Vulcans?//retorted Jennair.

To T'Pol, Nantuck replied, "No, my dear, I don't think that will be possible. Not yet. You are both different species and the doctor needs to make certain your DNA is fully compatible before we release you."

"That you have feigned a pretense of friendship is obvious," T'Pol noted. "What is not obvious is exactly what your intentions are." **Other than you are obviously not peaceful species.** she mentally added.

Jennair chortled at her naivet. "No, T'Pol, we are not a peaceful species," he told her from his position in the watch room.

"No," Nantuck agreed. "More precisely, we are a warrior people."

**A race of warrior birds? How bloody bizarre.** Malcolm thought silently. Unfortunately for him and for Trip, Jennair heard that thought and it did not please him. Alerting Sodan of his displeasure, the Gabbaccian engineer was happy to take out Jennair's ire on Trip. T'Pol and Malcolm watched in horror as Sodan placed a metal device on Trip's forehead. Moving away from Trip, Sodan pressed a button on a hand held remote which caused Trip's body to convulse.

"You may wish to remember that we can read your thoughts, however ethnocentric they may be, Lieutenant," Jennair told them.

"I apologize," Malcolm said hurriedly. "I did not mean offense. You do not need to continue to hurt the Commander."

"No," T'Pol agreed. "We will not give you reason for further agitation."

Nantuck came and stood beside her. "A plea, Vulcan?" he inquired. "How emotional. I see Jennair has judged your weaknesses correctly. The engineer has incited feelings of near sensitivity in you."

"I am a Vulcan. We do not have feelings," T'Pol replied stoically.

Nantuck laughed in response. "Do you need reminded that we can read your mind? We know better, Vulcan. You have as emotion as the man lying next to you."  
Nantuck glanced up and down her form appreciatively. "Have you wondered, T'Pol, how a species that does not have any females deals with its sexual frustration? It is of course, through the conquests of our empire."

"No." Nantuck, T'Pol, Malcolm, Aron, and Jennair turned towards the projection at the sound of Trip's voice. At first Malcolm and T'Pol believed they had unwittingly done something to give the Gabbaccians reason to hurt Trip. Their fears were laid to rest when he spoke again, "Don't...touch...her...don't hurt...them."

**Intriguing. He is barely conscious, yet still taking time to express concern for her well being.** Aron reflected to himself. **He could provide the antidote.**

"The Commander can see us as we can see him?" T'Pol queried.

"Yes, he can see you with a similar projection device as the one that allows you to see him. Someone should inform Commander Tucker that he is no position to make demands," Nantuck stated. "Further, the only reason I have not yet claimed the rewards of my labor is because the doctor requires untainted DNA. And because of your infernal Vulcan blood, making a match may prove difficult and shall require several attempts."

"Several attempts to achieve what goal?" T'Pol asked.

In response, the Gabbaccians turned and left the room to leave their guests to ponder just that.

Aboard the Cochrane

Alanna sat surveying her senior officers, or what was left of them. In comparison to the rest of the crew, their survival percentage was actually quite high. The thought disturbed her. Should not the senior officers be the ones whose lives were lost first? They were the ones making the decisions to go to battle-should they not reap the consequences first?

But somehow it rarely seemed that way in Starfleet. The list of casualties were littered with gallant junior officers and enlisted crewmen. Only occasionally did the names of a senior officer join those prestigious ranks. It reminded the Captain of the jokes that they used to tell in the Academy about officers sending in lower ranking men before them in ancient times. Frankly, Alanna saw too many similarities and she wasn't pleased about it. Not one bit.

Whether she liked it or not, Alanna did appreciate the fact that she had lost only her counselor and her communications officer. **Neither are really needed in our time line.** the Captain mourned privately. A counselor was only needed when the mental health of your crew was a concern. Here, in war, Alanna couldn't allow herself the that luxury. Every man for himself. Her crewmen's well being wasn't something Alanna could ponder on. And in the midst of war, who needed an efficient communications officer? There seemed to be less and less need for hailing anyone. **Torpedoes have an amazing ability to communicate without words.** Alanna reflected sadly.

With the loss of Counselor Addison and Lieutenant Yen, Alanna's senior officer staff was down to four others: her science officer, Lt. Leland; her pilot Ensign Zachary Sisko; her security officer Lt. Tabitha Stoffer, and her engineer, Lt. Cmdr. Jasper Brandeis. All four were looking at her expectantly, along with Dr. Ellen Cutler, Alanna's CMO.

"Leland, start recording," the Captain instructed the Gabbaccian. Loyally, he nodded and Alanna was left with the feeling she had frequently when looking at her scientist. Regret. Regret that she had been responsible for his father's death. Regret that she hadn't fulfilled her role as the "antidote." Regret that Leland was the only non-human in all of Starfleet, following the destruction of Vulcan. And not a very welcome one at that.

Sometimes Alanna wondered what life would have been like if the Gabbaccians hadn't been successful in their mission. She wondered if Starfleet would have included non-humans as well. If they would have followed through with their original mission of seeking "new life and new civilizations" and embraced them as part of their fleet.

"Recording, Captain," came the ever loyal reply.

"March 21, 2199, in our timeline, or March 21, 2153 in our current time line. I, Captain Alanna Tucker of Earth Starfleet Vessel Cochrane have assembled my senior officers to this meeting to be briefed on events heretofore classified as top secret by the governments of Earth. Due to impending events, I have deemed it appropriate for them to be let in on the reasons why they are possibly putting their lives in danger and allowing them the option of expressing their opposition to a plan which will very well mean a death sentence to them if they return to our time period." When Alanna paused, she glanced at each of her officers in turn to gage their reactions. There were none. **Of course not. We're in a war. Death is imminent on a daily basis.** War had hardened them.

The Captain continued, "As you all know, time travel is strictly forbidden by Earth Vessels. Any such travel will result in immediate execution. What you may not know is why. I take it all of you are familiar with the first Warp 5 Earth Space ship, the Enterprise?"

Her crew obediently nodded, and the Captain longed momentarily for a universe that would permit a more lax environment. Ignoring that desire, she continued, "And of course you are familiar with the role they played in establishing first contact with the Gabbaccians and the Suliban."

More nods and untrusting looks tossed in the direction of Leland. Sighing a bit, Alanna again continued. "As you are probably aware, thanks to the first contact with the Gabbaccians, both T'Vel and myself were genetically engineered."

"I'd heard that," interjected Lt. Stoffer. "But I never understood why. I mean, T'Vel I could, but you...?" The lieutenant's voice faltered a bit. Alanna allowed herself a tired smile. No one wants to question the birth of their captain. Somehow it seemed inherently insubordinate.

"Perhaps I should allow Leland to answer that. His father was responsible for both events," Alanna replied.

Leland gave a curt nod. "My father was the doctor aboard the Letal. Nantuck's original purpose of course was to develop a highly advanced killing machine. Upon finding Lt. Reed and Sub-Commander T'Pol, Nantuck believed their genes to be perfect for such a purpose. His intent was to combine the DNA of T'Pol and Reed, genetically emphasize traits for aggression and raise the child in a Gabbaccian training camp. Which is of course, exactly what happened with T'Vel."

"Of course. Explains how she was able to come up with a device that can completely destroy an entire planet," replied Stoffer angrily. Unquestionably, the Captain knew, part of that anger was directed towards the Gabbaccian sitting across from her. "But what does that have to do with the Captain?"

"My father felt pity upon the humans and did not enjoy his life's work as a killer. He saw in Commander Charles Tucker seeds of compassion which seemed to be reciprocated in Sub-Commander T'Pol. He decided to secretly breed an 'antitode' to the child that would become T'Vel. The antidote, in my father's eyes, would have the emphasized 'good' genes. In addition, the child would be raised in a loving home."

"Then you were the 'antidote'?" inquired Dr. Cutler of the Captain

The Captain nodded.

"But Captain," protested Ensign Sisko, who was the only other senior officer who had been briefed on the mission before they had left their time line. After all, a pilot has to know where they are flying the ship to. "I still don't understand something. Even if we are successful in stopping them, what's to stop the Gabbaccians from our time period, what's to stop them from sending in more? If the Gabbaccians from 2199 are determined to createâ€”"

"They are not, Ensign," Captain Tucker interrupted.

Three of the four faces around the table looked very confused.

"The Gabbaccian ship we are tracking comes from the 31st century, not the 22nd," replied the Captain. "If we get rid of it, then the Gabbaccians in our time period will not be a problem, as the scheduled Gabbaccian-Human first contact does not take place until the 26th century."

There was a moment of silence as Tucker's crew processed that information. "If that's true," argued Stoffer, "then why were the Suliban in our time?"

"Because, the Captain is the antidote," replied Leland. "They were attempting to stop her from stopping them before coming back to the 22nd century to help their allies, the Gabbaccians."

The Letal

T'Pol and Malcolm lie helplessly in their waiting room. They were completely alone. Even the view screen containing Commander Tucker's image had disappeared. Jennair did not wait at his post in the watching room. His surveillance was unnecessary, he assured them. After all, any attempt to escape would sound the alarm, and in turn, cause Commander Tucker great amounts of harm, possibly death.

That thought process was nearly the only one they could form. To T'Pol's great dismay, she was having difficulty forming the most basic of thought processes. Small fragments of conversation floated in and out of T'Pol's mind and she was certain they went together. However, the harder she tried to tie them together, the less she could actually remember.

"Lieutenant Reed?"

"Yes, Sub-Commander?"

"What do you recall about the Gabbaccian dining experience on our ship?"

"I recall them being there..." Malcolm's voice trailed off uncertainly.

"Do you recall anything else?"

"No. Do you?"

"No."

"Well, Sub-Commander, you're the science officer. Do you have any guesses as to why both of us have somehow lost our memories?"

"It is merely conjecture, Lieutenant, however, I do have a theory."

Malcolm sighed exasperatedly. "Mere conjecture is more than we have at the present, Sub-Commander. Please share whatever guesses you might have."

"The Gabbaccian doctor when he visits usually has two instruments with him. He has confessed to taking DNA samples with one of the instruments. After he takes his samples, he routinely injects us with a sleep inducing agent with the other instrument. I propose that the sleeping agent contains some type of memory erasing agent."

"How would they benefit from erasing our memories?" Malcolm questioned.

"I am uncertain. I am certain, however, that the agent is a short term memory distortion device only. My long term memories are still in tact. Are yours?"

Malcolm paused long enough to consider. After having completed his mental review of the entire Reed family Naval history, he was certain that his long term memory was still in excellent condition. "Yes, Sub-Commander, my long term memory is still in tact. However, all I remember about the Gabbaccians are that they were friendly when they came aboard."

"I see. Obviously some change occurred between our original contact and our current situation," T'Pol remarked. "However, I am unable to recall any events leading up to our present situation."

Malcolm did not respond for a moment. When he did speak, the softness of his tone was the only indicator of his emotion. "Sub-Commander, do you suppose Commander Tucker is alright?" He turned his head to face the Vulcan as he asked his question. Malcolm had learned that the Sub-Commander showed emotion through slight changes in her facial expressions. They were very subtle. Nonetheless, as the security officer Malcolm made it his job to recognize such small differences. It could determine the difference between life and death.  
To Malcolm's great dismay, T'Pol closed her eyes briefly before responding, "We have not given them additional reason to harm the Commander."

Malcolm suspected that he would have shivered even if he had been fully clothed.

The object of Malcolm and T'Pol's concern was experiencing similar memory distortions. Unfortunately, he still recalled quite readily the incident with the leeches. There had been one other unfortunate instance when T'Pol had stretched in her bonds. As punishment, the Gabbaccian had employed a trail of beetles from the base of his neck to his belly button. Flesh eating beetles at that. True, they had removed the beetles before they had done permanent damage. Still, the sensation of the beetles gnawing through his skin was a memory Trip would have been relieved to have forgotten. **If I hadn't disliked bugs before, I certainly do now,** Trip thought irritably.

The Gabbaccians didn't seem to want him dead yet. After all, they had sent in their doctor several times to "Make certain he still lives," in the words of Nantuck. Not exactly the most cheerful thought, but one that kept him alive nonetheless.

Although, Trip reflected, the whole experience did have one positive aspect. T'Pol had shown more human like affection that he would have ever believed possible. The very belief that she had not insisted on breaking free was itself a very human reaction. After all, if she and Malcolm broke free they could possibly get back the ship. How exactly Trip didn't know, but he was certain that she could have at least tried, if she truly valued the principle of logic as much as she claimed. **And staying prisoner because someone else might get hurt isn't logical. It's emotional, pure and simple.** Her words still reverberated in his mind from the beetle incident: **I was not intending to escape. Hurting the Commander is not necessary.** Even Jennair had noted the care both she and Malcolm had for him. **When we get back to the Enterprise, I am definitely never going to let her live this experience down. She's acting pretty damn human, if you ask me.**

Of course, Trip was not entirely certain they'd make it back to the Enterprise at all. *Happy endings, right? Must think happy endings.*

In the sickbay of The Letal, Dr. Aron sat staring at three petri dishes. One contained the DNA of each Enterprise crew member. What he was doing he had done many times before with many other races. Still, inexplicably, he felt extreme guilt for what he was doing.

"Dad?" Aron was startled out of his reverie by the sound of his four year old son's voice.

"Yes, Leland?" He asked the child.

"What's the matter? You seem sad."

"I am disturbed," the father admitted to his son.

"How come?" the child demanded.

Aron sighed. Leland was not quite old enough to learn mental shielding techniques yet. He could not be trusted with such knowledge. Not yet. "I am torn, my son. Between what I must do and what I wish to do."

Leland cocked his head and looked at his father in confusion. "Why can't you do both?"

Aron regarded the child for a moment and finally nodded his head slowly. "Yes, child, that may be exactly what I do. Why don't you go play now?"

"Okay, Dad. Feel better soon!"

As the child scrambled away from his father, Aron turned back to work on the petri dishes. The Vulcan DNA had caused him some problems over the past several days but he was relatively certain he could compensate for the differences this time. **I will follow my son's advice. I will 'do both.'** Aron thought to himself as he began the mixing of Malcolm and T'Pol's DNA. **I will give my Captain the killing machine he wants, but I will also provide an antidote in the form of a child with T'Pol and Commander Tucker.**

Aron had been observing the Enterprise crewmembers for some time now and he realized the compassion they felt for one another. He was certain that compassion would translate into love for a child. **Unfortunately, the offspring of Lt. Reed and Sub-Commander T'Pol will not benefit from such love.** Aron noted. **No, that child will be raised in one of our training camps where her manipulated DNA will be reinforced with proper guidance.**

The Gabbaccians had long since solved the nature versus nurture contraversy. **Neither nature nor nurture takes precedent over the other. Simply manipulate them both.** Children were raised at a young age to do whatever task they had been conceived for before their birth. Thus, the apprentice and master relationship became a son and father relationship. Such was the case with young Leland. Although the boy called Aron 'father', he did not share any genetic material with Aron. Nor did any Gabbaccian sons with the men they called fathers.

The child of Reed and T'Pol was going to call Atal her father. Atal was the head of Gabbaccian security on their homeworld during this time period. He had gone down in history as one of the most ruthless dictators in Gabbaccian culture. Atal had advanced the Gabbaccian empire further than anyone else had been able to do. In addition, Reed and T'Pol had gone down as experts in tactical and command situations. After studying them, it had been determined that they would be the most fit parents for the child of Atal. To top it all off, the child was to be female. Something that had been illegal since the Female Rebellion and subsequent annihilation two hundred years ago.

**But Commander Tucker was quite the surprise.** Aron mused as he carefully weaved the copper and iron strands together. **What Nantuck has determined to be a weak spot for T'Pol and Lt. Reed may end up being a weak spot for the entire Gabbaccian empire.**

Satisfied with himself, he determined that he had never seen a blond haired Vulcan before. **Since the child will be special, it is only fitting that she looks unique.** With a sigh, Aron hoped that T'Pol and Commander Tucker were ready to become parents.

Unaware of his impending fatherhood, Trip was aware of the change in vibration of the ship. It was very slight and one that no one would have noticed, had they not been a chief engineer on a starship. Trip noticed and Sodan did as well. They were under attack.

Trip also noticed the slight incline of Sodan's head, as though he were speaking with someone who wasn't there before he dashed out of the room. **He must be the engineer of this ship,** Trip noted although he could not remember if that was true. **And he might be a bastard, but he still knows that the engineer has to be with his engines during a time of crisis.**

Of course, with Sodan gone, Trip was now alone. The opportunity he had been waiting for had finally arrived. Trip was convinced that while his life was expendable to the Gabbaccians, for some reason neither Malcolm nor T'Pol's was. Thus, Trip figured, if he could break free, neither of his shipmates would pay for his actions. Up until now, he had been under close watch. With Sodan gone, he could test his theory.

Slowly, Trip pulled at his bonds. Hearing no alarm and feeling no punishment for doing so, Trip began to pull more furiously at the bonds, determined to break free. As he did so, he idly wondered who was attacking them. **I hope they're on our side.**

**THE ENTERPRISE**

As Captain Archer walked into the mess hall, he was surprised and slightly irritated to see another form sitting at one of the tables. He had not expected someone else to be there, so late. He had deliberately chosen this late hour to avoid having to see anyone else's face while he ate. Being surrounded by people while he ate only reminded him of his error in judgment. It reminded him that he hadn't seen T'Pol or Trip, his normal meal companions, in two days.

Seeing the crewman to be Ensign Sato, he decided to walk over to the Ensign and join her.

"Hello, Hoshi," greeted the Captain as he sat down. Hoshi looked up in surprise. The Captain noted the puffiness and redness which surrounded her eyes. ***She's been crying,***he deduced.

"Good evening, Captain," she replied as he sat down.

"Hoshi, we'll get them back," the Captain promised. ***That sounded hollow even to me,***he noted.

Hoshi laughed bitterly. "That isn't likely, Captain," she informed him. "They have a warp 10 capability. We can barely make warp 5. Hess tells us if we continue to pressure the ship to go this speed, it's going to fall apart."

The Captain nodded. "I know that, Hoshi. But you have to have faith-we'll see them again. I'm certain of it."

"How can you be?" Hoshi asked incredulously. "The odds are stacked pretty much against us, Captain."

There was a pause, and the Ensign continued. "You know, Malcolm and I have been having a scheduled target practice every Thursday night," she mused. "Tonight's the first time he's missed it."

Archer hadn't known that. "Really? I had no idea you were so close to Malcolm," he said in surprise. "You-you must really miss him."

"Yes, I do," Hoshi murmured.

"I'm sorry, Hoshi," the Captain grieved.

"It's not your fault, Captain," Hoshi assured him. But Archer shook his head.

"Isn't it?" he asked. "You know that both T'Pol and Malcolm protested sending over three of the four highest ranking officers. And did I listen? No. I was too busy playing Captain to realize that their concerns might be valid. What good did it accomplish? It got all three of them kidnapped on board an alien ship traveling at warp 10." Archer shook his head again, ruefully. "I'd say that pretty much makes it my fault."

There was another pause before Hoshi whispered softly, "It means Lethal."

"What?"

"The ship name, The Letal? In Spanish, it means The Lethal."

"Hoshiâ€”"

"I'm the ship's linguist, right? If anyone should know that, shouldn't it be me?"

"There was no reason for you to suspectâ€”"

"I can speak Klingon, Vulcan, Andorian, and nearly any alien language you give me, but when an alien has a Spanish name for their ship, I can't pick it up?" Hoshi berated herself.

"Hoshi, they claimed to be benevolent. All of us fell for it, myself included. You can't blame yourself," the Captain said softly. Mentally, he said to himself, **But I can and do blame myself.**

* * *

**THE COCHRANE**

"Direct hit, Captain," Lt. Stoffer reported.

From his post at the science station, Leland confirmed Stoffer's report. "We have damaged their warp drive. They have impulse power only."

Captain Tucker nodded. "Can we transport over there yet?" she inquired.

Leland shook his head. "Negative, Captain. While we have inflicted enough damage to their warp drive, their shields remain in effect at twenty-five percent. That's enough to prevent us from beaming aboard the Letal."

As Leland finished his sentence, the ship rocked as another burst of Gabbaccian phasers hit the Cochrane. "Evasive maneuvers, Ensign Sisko," the Captain ordered.

"Aye, Captain," replied the helmsman as he worked to get them out of harm's way.

"Lieutenant, fire photon torpedoes when ready," the Captain instructed.

"Aye, Captain," came the reply.

"Captain, we're being hailed by the Gabbaccian ship," remarked the Ensign at the Communications station.

"Ignore it," replied the Captain. ***I cannot allow them to know who the Captain of this ship is,***Alanna reflected. **They'll know what I'm trying to do.**

"Enemies shields are down, Captain," Leland informed her. "I suggest we beam over there immediately."

"Thank you Malcolm for inventing Starfleet photon torpedoes," the Captain exclaimed excitedly to her long deceased friend and the man she had considered an uncle. "Lieutenant Leland, come with me to the transporter room. Commander Brandeis, you have the bridge."

Both Brandeis and Stoffer were on their feet to protest immediately. "Captain! With all due respect, I am the ship's security chief. If anyone should be going on the away mission to the enemy's ship, it should be me," Stoffer argued.

"And I am the ship's first officer," Brandeis added. "Which means I should go in your place, Captain."

Captain Tucker shook her head. "I don't have time to argue with either one of you. I've given my orders. I expect them to be followed. Commander, as soon as the transporter room lets you know we have left the ship, engage cloaking technology. Lt. Leland will let you know when we are ready to beam aboard. As soon as the landing party arrives, destroy the Gabbaccian ship. By any means necessary."

"Captain?" inquired Sisko. "You-you won't be returning with them, will you?"

"No, Ensign, I will not. Are my orders clear, Commander?" Alanna demanded of her first officer.

"Aye, Captain," Brandeis said softly.

* * *

Trip struggled with his bonds, pulling on the reigns tightly. It seemed fruitless, really. He was tugging on bonds that refused to release him.  
**I have to get free,** Trip told himself. **I may be the only hope we have of getting back to the Enterprise.**

Trip paused when he heard footsteps approaching in the corridor. **Damnit, please don't come in,** he begged the person silently.

They didn't listen.

Trip heard the swish of the ship's doors as the person walked into the room. To his surprise, he looked up into the face of a blond haired, blue eyed Vulcan.

"Who are you?" he questioned. It was the only thing his brain could register.  
The woman smiled at him, kindly.

"My name is Captain Alanna Tucker, of the United Earth Starship Cochrane," she said with a smile.

"Tucker?" Trip asked in surprise. "The Cochrane? There aren't any ships called the Cochrane, that I know of. And there aren't any other Tuckers in Starfleet, either."

"That's because I'm from the future," Alanna replied quietly.

"The future?" Trip repeated. Realizing he must sound pretty stupid repeating her constantly, Trip searched for something intelligent to say. Then it dawned on him. "Say, if you're from the future, and you're a Tucker...are we related?"

Alanna chuckled softly. "You could say that...Dad." Alanna couldn't help but add the last part. It most likely went against all types of protocol, but as she had never had the pleasure of saying it out loud, she took the opportunity to say it now.

Trip forgot his vow not to repeat himself. "I'm your Dad?" he asked in disbelief. "But-but you're a Vulcan!" he protested.

"I'm only half Vulcan," she replied as she began to work on his bonds.

"Then T'Pol...she's your mama?" Trip queried.

"Yes," Alanna answered softly, again feeling the impact of her mother's death.

The realization hit Trip hard. "You mean, T'Pol and I...we...?"

Alanna lauged. "I assure, there was no sex involved in my conception."

Trip grunted. "That's no fun. Leave it to T'Pol to make baby making an immaculate event." Realizing his hands were free, he rubbed his wrists and he remarked, "Ya know, ya sure don't act like a Vulcan."

Alanna handed him a phaser, yet another invention of her late Uncle Malcolm. "These work the same as your phase pistols do," she told him. "And by the way, you can thank my mother for that. She was determined I be raised in touch with my human side."

"T'Pol? Miss Vulcan herself?"

"Yes," Alanna replied. Pausing to listen for footsteps, and hearing none, she continued, "Now, let's go. We have friends of yours to rescue."

"Ya do realize I don't believe ya," Trip told her as they headed out the door.

"About being your daughter or about being from the future," Alanna asked, amused.

"Both," replied Trip. As he started to head towards down the corridor, Alanna shook her head. "We'll be noticed immediately if we head in that direction."

Trip placed his hands on his hips in agitation. "How do you suggest we go, then?" he inquired.

Alanna pointed up. "Through the ship's interconnecting tubes," she replied. Then she flashed him a grin. "It is most logical."

"I don't see any entrances," Trip said, thoroughly confused.

"That's because you aren't familiar with Gabbacccian ships," Alanna replied. "Give me a lift?"

**Crazy woman,** Trip noted, but he gave her his assistance anyway. Placing her foot in his cupped hands, Alanna's hands expertly pulled away a large chunk of the wall, which she dropped quietly to the floor.

"Shall we go, Commander?" she teased, as she hopped into the tube.

As Trip did the same, he remarked, "Why exactly are you so comfortable with Gabbaccian ships?"

"I was held prisoner on one for three weeks," Alanna replied. "I was only able to escape due to Aron's actions."

"Doctor Aron? The Gabbaccian doctor?"

"Yes. He sustained substantial torture so that his son and I could escape."

They crawled quietly for some time before Trip spoke again. "Alanna, what's the future like?"

**Should I tell him?** Alanna realized that if she did, he would have the opportunity to help insure that Earth did not become the warring, xenophobic place of her time. The thought pushed away any misgivings Alanna had about breaching protocol. She paused only momentarily before answering. "Earth has been at war for 25 point five years with the Quadruple Alliance," she replied.

"Who are the Quadruple Alliance?" Trip asked.

Alanna paused again, wondering if she should tell him. "Mostly aliens you have never heard of," she replied.

"Then it won't hurt you to tell me," Trip retorted.

Alanna sighed. He had a point. Besides, if he could help stop in any way, future events..."The Quadruple Alliance consists of the Cardassians, the Gabbaccians, the Dominion, and the Suliban," she finally answered.

"The Suliban? Then this all has to do with the Temporal Cold War, somehow?"

"Yes. Most of the aliens you haven't heard of lost to the Fed-erm, Starfleet in the future. Their alliance formed in the thirty-first century, in attempt to stop the formation of Starfleet into a galactic power."

"How do ya know about the 31st century?" Trip wondered.

"Because this ship comes from that century," Alanna replied. "And Aron passed on the information to my science officer, Leland, before his death."

"How does our kidnapping come into play?" Trip asked, feeling a bit confused.

"Do you recall the Suliban ship that attacked the Gabbaccians?" Alanna querried.

"Yeah-if they're allies, how come...?"

"It was a fake attack. The Suliban have studied Captain Archer well, and determined that by placing the Gabbaccians in peril, it would easily prompt Archer to send aide. He did so accordingly," Alanna remarked, with just a trace of bitterness in her tone. She had never liked Archer much. He was, in her opinion, an inefficient Captain, who took too many risks with his crew. One such risk had cost Alanna her father. She had never forgiven him for that. "By kidnapping you, the Gabbaccians and Suliban hoped to change the timeline considerably in their favor."

"How did they plan on doing that?" Trip asked. He failed to see how torturing him with a bunch of flesh eating beetles and leeches could change the timeline.

"Gabbaccians are experts at genetic manipulation. They planned on manipulating the DNA of mother and Malcolm to gain a prime killing machine. That killing machine would be raised in this timeline, thus giving the Suliban-Gabbaccian alliance an earlier start and a great edge."

Trip didn't know exactly what to say. Finally, he managed, "Who exactly are on our side?"

"Earth's allies consist of the Romulans and the Vulcans. The Romulans have given us most of our weaponry, whereas the Vulcans have helped with advancing warp drive to warp 8." Alanna didn't add that they had since reached warp 10.

"But the Romulans don't like us!" Trip protested. "Malcolm got his leg nailed to the hull of the ship because of them. There's no way they'd help us? And the Vulcans? Sharing techonology? Impossible. I'm surprised they're even involvedâ€”"

"They aren't," Alanna replied quietly. Something in her tone made him pause.

"Whaddya mean? I thought ya saidâ€”"

"I said, Commander, that they were," Alanna responded. "The planet Vulcan no longer exists in the future."

"How can a planet cease to exist?" Trip demanded.

"The Quadruple Alliance's leader, T'Vel, was able to devise a device which effectively eliminated the entire planet," Alanna replied.

"How in the hell did she do that?"

"She was quite an advanced weapons expert," Alanna replied. "She inherited that from her parents."

"Malcolm and T'Pol?"

"Yes."

Trip rubbed his forehead in agitation. "Damn, time travel gives me a headache. I don't understand, though. If the Quadruple Alliance has this technology, then why hit Vulcan? Why not hit Earth itself?"

"Because," Alanna replied, patiently. "Earth is 75% occupied by the Quadruple Alliance."

"Occupied...as in enslaved?"

"Yes."

"But if you're a United Earth Ship...?"

"Starfleet is not the planetary power it is in your universe. We exist mainly on the fringes. The 25% of Earth not occupied by the Alliance is in power of Starfleet. Complete, martial law," she added.

"Martial law? Starfleet?" Trip asked in disbelief. "How's that any better than what the Alliance is doing?"

"I join Starfleet in hope of freeing my planet. The only homeworld I have left. I can only hope that when the day of freedom arrives, then we can deal with the problems of Starfleet," Alanna remarked. "But Starfleet in general, is not..." she trailed off.

"Not what?" Trip asked, not sure if he really wanted to know more.

"Not the benevolent group you believe it to be in this period. Because of the Quadruple Alliance, Starfleet became a power hungry oligarchy, bent on revenge. This sense of revenge drove them towards paranoia and xenophobia on a mass scale."

"So many aliens out to get us, who can we trust, right?" Trip inquired.

"Yes," Alanna noted sadly. "Starfleet is a homo sapiens only club at the present. I often wonder...if the Quadruple Alliance hadn't occurred, if things would be different. We had Vulcans in Starfleet, briefly. But with the destruction of the planet, we don't have that anymore either. Now it's just humans."

"That's not what we set out to do at all," Trip protested, feeling helpless and angry all at once. "Earth has learned to put aside war. Now ya're tellin' me reachin' the stars only brings us back to our archaic days of war and anarchy?"

"Yes, Commander, that's exactly what I'm saying," Alanna replied.

* * *

While Alanna was filling Trip in on 45 years worth of history, Leland was making repairs to the shuttlecraft, as his Captain had ordered. In order for the craft to get away in time to avoid the effects of the explosion, it would need to go at least warp 8. Gabbaccian shuttlecrafts currently operated at only warp 2 capacity.

Leland ached inside. He loved Alanna, there was no doubt. Yet, T'Vel had been his childhood playmate.

Not only was T'Vel brilliant, but she was, he believed, capable of much greater things. The brilliant scientific mind of hers was surpassed only by her capacity for loyalty.

Leland did not believe what his people had claimed. He firmly believed that, regardless of genetic manipulation, T'Vel could have ended up a gentle, loving adult.

**Like Alanna,** he noted.

Maybe if T'Vel had been raised alongside Alanna, things would have been different. Maybe the advanced weaponry and scientific knowledge would have been put to good use.

**And Vulcan would still exist,**

**And the Romulans would not have been enslaved under the Quadruple Alliance.** After all, T'Vel would not have had an impetus for creating her planetary prison system.

His mind made up, Leland rose from his position fixing the craft. The solution was obvious. As long as they were going to repair the future, they might as well do it right.

**That means I have to stop Alanna in her current mission,** he noted.

Feeling slightly ashamed at the prospect of disobeying an order, Leland shrugged it away. Disobeying the order would result in the greater good for the galaxy, he was certain. With that in mind, he headed towards the science lab, where he was certain Lieutenant Reed and Sub-Commander T'Pol were being held.

Being Gabbaccian, he was able to reach the lab via the corridors. As a result, he arrived much earlier than his Captain and her father.

He ignored the questions he received from Reed and T'Pol and waited, phaser ready, for Alanna and Trip's arrival.

* * *

"But I don't understand, if Romulus is enslaved with this device...how come the Alliance didn't just use it on Earth, too?" Trip wondered to Alanna.

There was a pause, as Alanna reflected on the day they had attempted to do so. It still ached to think of it. "They tried," she replied. "The Enterprise was there to stop them, under command of Captain Reed," she added with a small smile. It still felt good to know that, if she had to lose Malcolm, she had lost him at a rank befitting of his skill.

"Captain Reed? What happened to Captain Archer?" Trip asked. "And T'Pol? And me, for that matter? We just skipped three people in rank!" Trip protested.

"Archer is currently president of Starfleet. Mother was serving as a liaison to Vulcan in a successful attempt to gain more technology for Earth. You didn't make it off the Gabbaccian ship in my timeline."

"Oh," replied Trip. Not wanting to dwell on his own mortality, he asked, "Then, Malcolm was successful?"

"Yes."

"How did he stop something that advanced? The Enterprise isn'tâ€”"

"He sacrificed the ship-and himself-to do so," she replied. "Please don't ask anymore," she added softly. "It's a rather painful subject."

"I'm sorry," Trip apologized. "Ya were rather close,huh?"

"Yes, we were. He was determined I should know all about you," she added with a smile. "My fondest childhood memories are of Malcolm and myself having catfish and pecan pie while he told me stories about you." She smiled wickedly. "My favorite was the Xyrillians, personally."

Trip groaned. Even in death, he would never live that story down. Figures. Then it hit him. If he had never made it off the ship..."Alanna, you were conceived the same way T'Vel was, weren't you?" he asked.

"Yes," she replied. "Which is exactly what we're going to go fix."

Trip shook his head, determined not to worry about the implications of time travel again until after they got off the ship. He'd let T'Pol figure it out. She was the science officer, anyway.

Alanna paused at their destination, pulling the screen expertly to the side. As she and Trip dropped ground in the science lab, she was surprised, then relieved to notice a Gabbaccian standing in the room with them. It was, she realized, Leland.

"Leland, what are you doing here? You are supposed toâ€”"

That was all she got out before both she and Trip were stunned into unconsciousness. Walking past Alanna on his way to the door, he remarked, softly, "I'm sorry Alanna, but I can't allow a universe to exist where you don't exist."

He went in search of his father.

* * *

The Captain of the Letal frowned in apprehension at the new alien threat appearing on their screen. While The Cochrane had been easily destroyed after their tactical advantages of stealth and surprise had been eliminated, the same would not easily be said of the Tholians.

//Get us out of here, Ensign// Nantuck instructed his helmsman.

//I can't, Sir.//came the reply, sounding a bit desperate, even in telepathy.

//What do you mean, you can't? Get us out of here right now. That's an order!//

Jennair interrupted. //Respectfully, Captain, the ship cannot go anywhere. Before we destroyed them, The Cochrane sustained substantial damage to both the impulse and warp drives.//

//Are weapons still online?// Nantuck demanded.

//Yes, our quantum torpedoes and phasers are both still functional. However, I caution against using them against the Tholians. In our weakened state, we will be no match for them if we give them cause to be angry.//Jennair replied.

//I make the decisions around here, Jennair. Raise shields, flood torpedo tubes, and aim phasers. Target their weaponry.//

//Aye, sir.// Came the doubtful reply. Nantuck made a mental note to punish Jennair for his insubordination at a later date.

The torpedoes and phasers made little more than a dent in the Tholian ship. Nantuck began to wonder if perhaps his judgment had been too hasty.

//They are returning fire// Jennair informed his Captain. //Shields down to thirty percent.//

//Try hailing them-see if they can be reasoned with// Nantuck decided in desperation.

//No response to our hails// Jennair informed the Captain as the ship rocked with another blast from the Tholian intruders. //That blast damaged life support-down to twenty-five percent. Shields are now off line.//

//So now we wait for destruction?//

//There seems to be little other alternative, Captain.//

A third blast from the alien ship rendered their long and short term sensors inoperable.

//Captain, we're being hailed-audio only.// Jennair noted, with more than a tinge of hope to his voice.

//Go ahead, Lieutenant.//

"Captain Nantuck, you will hand over Lieutenant Reed, Commander Tucker, and Sub-Commander T'Pol. If you fail to comply, your ship will be destroyed. You have fifteen minutes to beam to our ship. Make certain they are returned to us alive."

//They've given the co-ordinates, Captain// Jennair noted. //What are your orders?//

Nantuck turned to look at his security officer. //There is little point in being a warrior, Jennair, if you allow yourselves to be killed before the mission can be completed. We will allow the Tholians to have our prisoners, and return for them another day. Come, we shall gather the prisoners.//

* * *

Alanna awoke slowly and immediately noticed the sleeping figure of Commander Tucker beside her. **My Vulcan biology was able to give me a quicker recovery than my human father,** she noted. When she remembered why exactly they had been sleeping, Alanna felt a deep stab of anguish.

Leland. Her trusted science officer and friend. The man she had defended against the accusations of her crew had proved their suspicions to be well founded. But now was not the time to dwell on such emotions. Now she had to make certain that the mission was completed and that Leland was stopped.

Her mother's voice stopped her in mid-rise. "I am Sub-Commander T'Pol of the Earth Star Ship Enterprise. We could be gratified for your assistance."

The sound stirred feelings of warmth that Alanna had not known since Vulcan had been destroyed. "Mother," she said softly. Being able to say the word to a living entity brought forth tears that threatened to spring forth, uncontrollably from the half-Vulcan's eyes. At the sound of Malcolm's voice, they did just that.

"Mother?" he asked incredulously.

"Oh, Malcolm," Alanna exclaimed happily, "you're still here. And only a lieutenant."

Malcolm was rather certain the woman was not being intentionally rude. Nonetheless, it wouldn't due for her to disparage his rank. "It was a very well earned rank, thank you," he retorted, trying to sound as dignified as possible. Which was difficult, considering his current bound status.

"Yes, I'm sure it was. But you'll soon earn much higher than lieutenant pips," Alanna assured him.

Malcolm was quieted with that. And, frankly, quite happy.

"It appears you know Lieutenant Reed very well," T'Pol interjected. "However, you are mistaken if you believe me to be your mother. No child of mine would be so...emotional." The disdain was clear in the Sub-Commander's voice.

In reply, Alanna pressed her fingers to T'Pol's face. Seeing the fear momentarily reflected in T'Pol's eyes, Alanna shook her head. "I won't hurt you the way Tolaris did, mother. I promise. But, I have a feeling you won't believe a word the Commander says when he wakes up."

With the meld complete, Alanna released her fingers from her mother's face. She could see the confusion, concern, and sadness in her mother's eyes. "I'm sorry, mother," she said as she started to unbind her ties, "But I don't have more time to explain."

"Wait," Malcolm protested. "If you untie us, an alarm will go off." But it was too late. Before the word 'off' had escaped Malcolm's lips, the klaxons began to sound. As relieved as Malcolm and T'Pol were to know that Trip would not receive any punishment this time, they both realized that the alarms would assuredly result in their captors return.

"Well, the only thing left to do is free you," Alanna decided. Working quickly, and incorporating the knowledge that had once made her a highly desirable engineer, Alanna quickly unbound the ties that held them both. Once they were free, she motioned towards the door.

"This hallway leads directly to the lab. It's fairly unguarded, so it won't be necessary to travel through the tubes," Alanna stated.

Malcolm, however, was kneeling beside Commander Tucker, still unconscious. "We can't just leave him," he protested.

"Malcolm, we have to. He'll slow us down," Alanna argued.

"Lieutenant Reed is correct. We shall not leave Commander Tucker, although that is surely the most logical course of action," T'Pol stated. "He may not have escaped the ship in your timeline, Captain, but he will this time."

**Oh, what Trip would have given to hear that,** Malcolm thought to himself. **That was blatant concern for his well being that I just heard. If we make it off this bloody ship, I'll be certain to tell him just that.**

"Fine. But we have to hurry," Alanna stated, irritated. While she was reveling in the chance to see her father for the first time, the two standing in front of her were a higher priority. She had loved them, after all.

Malcolm began to reach down in an attempt to lift Trip. He was stopped, however, by T'Pol laying a gentle hand on his arm. Wordlessly, she bent over and hoisted Trip in her arms. Straightening, she told Alanna, "We are now ready."

* * *

//Shouldn't we stop them, Captain?// Jennair inquired.

//No. They seem to know of a threat we are unaware of. Let them eliminate the threat. Then we shall capture and deliver them to the Tholians.// Nantuck replied.

* * *

~~~~~Tholian Ship~~~~~~

"Ah, you return, " Tholian Captain Zlar noted to his second in command.

"Yes, I was securing the environmental suits necessary for our journey," Puida replied.

"I trust both the shuttlepod and the suits are prepared?" Zlar inquired.

"Yes, Captain. I have prepared four suits: one for myself, one for the doctor, and two for a security force that will accompany us to the pod once your word is given."

"I want to send you to the pod two minutes in advance. This gives you plenty of tactical advantage," Zlar noted.

"Agreed, Captain. It is unfortunate that we shall have to transport them by shuttlepod, instead of bringing them aboard. I do not like the idea of using a tractor beam for such long distances."

"For a thirty-first century ship, the distance is hardly 'long.' In addition, the technology we are using is hardly a 'tractor beam.' A mere tractor beam would not allow us to temporarily attach the shuttlepod to the hull of the ship itself." Zlar scolded.

"I suppose not. And if we were using a mere 'tractor beam', it would not be able to withstand the pressure of warp speed. Still, the technology is still relatively new," Puida mused.

"And you realize as well as I do that our environment would not be bearable to them, given the extremely warm temperatures and large percentage of sulfur-dioxide in our air," Zlar pointed out.

"Both of those could be temporarily changed," Puida argued.

"Bah. It would be more hassle than necessary. Besides, our people and theirs still have two centuries of hostilities before they will form an alliance. Returning them in our ship may change the balance of our hostilities." Zlar noted sadly.

"Yes," Puida agreed. "And the last time one of our fleet tried to change that, we ended up in which James Kirk was permanently lost."

They were interrupted by the arrival of Security Chief Chidia. "Captain Zlar, Commander Puida," she greeted. "Ensign Stal and I are ready whenever you are."

The Tholian Captain regarded his lieutenant. "You are not happy about this decision, are you, Lieutenant?" he inquired of Chidia.

Chidia's distaste was apparent as she answered. "Our Tholian past saw our people treasuring neutrality," she responded. "Today we spit on that heritage by interfering with what is supposed to come."

"Our ancestors also valued the preservation of the time line, which is why we continue to take part in the silly squabbling of the Temporal Cold War," Zlar responded, turning his gem shaped eyes towards his security officer.

"More than that, our ancestors valued honor and integrity," Puida argued. "How could we salute our heritage by allowing the Federation to fail to prosper? The same Federation that helped our ancestors two centuries ago, when our Tholian ancestors faced a war against the Klingon Empire?"

Chidia started to respond, but was interrupted by her Captain.

"You forget, Chidia. We do not undertake this mission in haste. We watched and waited-we saw the outcome of the Gabbaccian interference. If we allow them to prosper and do not take measure to stop them, the Federation will fail a mere two years after forming," Zlar stated.

Chidia sighed. "I suppose you're right."

Puida placed a hand on the security chief's shoulder. "I feel the same way you do, Chidia, about interfering. But it's not a simple matter of interference at stake this time. It's a matter of the survival of the Tholian Empire. If there is no Federation, our people may well lose the Tholian-Klingon War of the twenty-ninth century."

Zlar broke the silence of his officers following such a somber revelation. "Lieutenant, is the web being constructed?"

"Yes. It has approximately twenty minutes before the energy field will contract completely. When it does, the Letal shall be destroyed," Chidia informed her Captain.

"Excellent. Is there any chance that the Letal will be able to sense our web?"

"Unlikely. The newly installed cloaking technology will prevent that," Chidia assured him. "However, even if they are able to detect it in time, their impulse and warp engines are both offline. According to sensor scans of their systems, it will take approximately thirty two minutes to fix even the most basic of the impulse drives. They will perish, Captain. That is certain."

The Tholian Captain nodded his approval. "Then we shall permit our Gabbaccian friends to help us. Let us wait, Tholians."

* * *

His head hurt worse than it ever had before, Trip noted as he began to awake. The concentration on the overwhelming agony throbbing between his temples was disrupted by the disturbing realization that he was floating...no, scratch that, he was being carried. Strong, firm, and gentle arms had him cradled protectively close to the body attached to them. Wearily, and not nearly as bravely as was becoming of a Starfleet officer, Trip opened his eyes. The brown patch that met his gaze at first did not immediately connect with his brain. When it eventually did, he hastily jerked his head up to make eye contact with his companion.

**T'Pol is carrying me? Isn't that backwards? Isn't the man supposed to carry the damsel in distress?** Trip thought in irritation. **Is there some type of Cosmic Entity that enjoys flipping my gender role all to hell? First I wind up pregnant, now I'm being carried in true Scarlet O'Hara fashion. Was I a misogynistic asshole in another life?**

His thought process was halted as T'Pol stopped walking. Sensing her passenger was awake, T'Pol stopped momentarily to unload her passenger. When he swerved a bit, the arms of both T'Pol and Malcolm reached out to help steady him.

"Are you able to walk, Commander?" T'Pol inquired.

"Yeah, I'm fine, T'Pol. Just a little dizzy, that's all," he assured her. "Although, I was gettin' pretty used to being so kindly escorted."

T'Pol raised both of her eyebrows in response. "If you are able to walk on your own, Commander, there is little need for me to continue to carry you. Unless you were, as you humans say, 'enjoying the view,'" she retorted.

Considering what 'view' had been directly at his eye level, Trip's face turned a very deep shade of pink.

Malcolm attempted, somewhat unsuccessfully, to cover a chuckle. Trip shot him a glare. "Speakin' of views, I'm surprised you aren't walkin' behind us, Lieutenant Reed," Trip shot at his friend. **Damn, it's good to see him again! In person too!** Trip thought cheerfully.

Malcolm gave Trip an icy glare and mentally rescinded the promise to tell him of the Sub-Commander's previous display of concern.

T'Pol threw them both for a loop. "If you are referring to Lieutenant Reed's habit of watching my posterior, I believe he has appropriately decided to postpone such activity until we are back on the bridge of the Enterprise, where he normally engages in such activities." At the emergence of a smirk on Trip's face, she added, "I suggest you postpone your ritual observation of my mammary glands until we have safely returned as well."

The smirk on Trip's face disappeared, as did the horrified look that had briefly crossed Malcolm's. The armory officer briefly contemplated that perhaps he would tell Trip of the Sub-Commander's actions after all.

Ahead of them, Alanna winced slightly. **I'm glad these corridors are not guarded. If they were, there'd be no chance of us escaping. Their voices would have given us away,** The Captain in her was agitated. The woman in her that hadn't seen any of them happy in her entire 45 years was overjoyed, however.  
As they neared the closed door which separated the lab, the friendly banter between the three Enterprise officers ended abruptly. **Good try, guys. But there's still no way in hell you'd be able to survive my time period,** Alanna mocked silently. She felt a slight tinge of sadness as she realized just how truthful that statement had proved to be. Silently, she unzipped her jacket to reveal three extra phasers attached to her belt. She had believed they would be necessary to exit the ship, but she had never dreamed they would be needed to stop Leland. Handing a phaser to each of the Enterprise crew, the four of them braced themselves as they entered the lab.

* * *

Nantuck and Jennair had watched in interest as Alanna, Malcolm, Trip, and T'Pol had began to head in the direction of the science lab. Interests peaked, they too headed in that direction. The same watching room from whence Jennair had maintained his watch over Malcolm and T'Pol had a counterpart in every department in the ship, including the science lab. It was to this room that Nantuck and Jennair waited, in hiding.

//Be ready to use room wide stun, Jennair.// Nantuck instructed his security officer.

//Aye, Captain. Are you certain the Tholians will not mind?//

//They said they wanted them back alive. They did not specify which state of consciousness was preferable. //

//True.//

//I am glad we installed this stun device. You were wise not to trust the doctor, it appears, Jennair.//

//His mental shields were up entirely too often. There were also times in which I felt a slight twinge of sorrow from him while discussing our plans of conquest before he placed the shields up. I knew his time of mutiny would come. It was only a question of when.//

//I know. We kept him only because of his scientific genius. It appears that was a mistake.//

* * *

Leland was hopeful. He very nearly had his father convinced. They were going to change time, change history, change the dreary future-all for the better. The Cochrane's former science officer pushed the two petri dishes toward the Doctor. "Go ahead, father," he encouraged. "Do it."

Aron frowned. "But...the Vulcans. They knew of the plague affecting our females two centuries ago-and they refused to help us. It is appropriate to see them punished. Destroyed in the same fashion as we nearly were."

"Nearly is the key word, father. The loss of our females increased our scientific advancements-because we had no other choice! If the Vulcans had not held fast to their concept of the non-interference directive, our species never would have developed in the fashion that it did."

"That is true..." Aron agreed, his resolve crumbling.

"You have a chance to right the wrong you were about to commit. A wrong you will live to regret the rest of your days," Leland implored. "That's why I'm here, father."

"Funny, that's why I'm here too," Alanna's voice interrupted them. Leland and Aron had been so caught up in their conversation that they had allowed the intruders to enter without seeing them. Now it was too late. Four phasers were aimed directly at Leland and his father. The battle had been lost.

"Alanna! Wait, you must listen to me," Leland implored.

"Sit down-right over there," Alanna said with a jerk of her head towards two chairs in the corner of the room. "You too, Doc."

Leland complied, as did his father. "Keep your phasers aimed on these two, guys," she instructed the Enterprise crew. "If they move, shoot them."

"I believe we understand the purpose of the phasers," T'Pol replied.

Alanna grinned despite herself. Carefully, she withdrew from her jacket pocket a small device. Aiming it above Leland and Aron, it formed a small energy field which would serve as a temporary prison.

"Damn," Trip marveled. "First phasers, now portable prisons. Are ya sure you aren't Malcolm's kid after all?"

The questioned earned him a startled glance from Malcolm, and a chuckle from Alanna. "He did have a considerable role in my upbringing," she reminded the engineer, which only served to confuse Malcolm more.

"Alanna, wait," the sound of her former science officer's voice only served to twist the knife he had plunged into her back. She had no intention of listening to the traitor. Instead, she moved towards the lab table, intent on destroying the damage.

"Perhaps it would be prudent to hear what he has to say," T'Pol suggested. "Only by understanding his treachery will you be able to prevent similar reoccurrences in the future."

"Fine," Alanna said with a sigh, not bothering to inform her mother that she would have no future. "Go ahead and explain why you're a traitor, Leland. What was it exactly? Was it the taunts and accusing looks of the crew? Or was it worse than that? Were you a Gabbaccian spy the entire time?"

"It was none of those things," Leland assured his former Captain.

"Then what the hell was it? I trusted you, damnit! I trusted you more than I trusted anyone. And you betrayed me," Alanna spat irritably. Time, they were wasting valuable time.

* * *

//Should I phaser them now?//

//No, Jennair, I want to know what the doctor was planning.//

* * *

"Alanna, I wanted...this is not the answer-forbidding your birth and T'Vel's. T'Vel is a brilliant scientistâ€”"

"She's a cold blooded murderer," Alanna argued.

"Only because she was raised to be," Leland argued.

"And how do you suggest to change that?" It was not Alanna that spoke. Rather, it was her mother.

Both Leland and Alanna looked at her with surprise.

"Alanna was such a caring person because of who she was raised with-in a loving home. If Alanna and T'Vel could be combined-into one entity, the universe would be a better place. Instead of being two children conceived on this day, there would be one. Instead of it being raised by the Empire, it would be raised by T'Pol, as Alanna was."

* * *

//Now, Jennair.//

* * *

Alanna's reply was lost, as all six occupants of the room were hit with a phaser beam.

//Nantuck to transporter room.//

//Transporter room, sir.//

//Do you have the coordinates from the Tholian ship?//

//Yes, sir.//

//Lock onto the life signs of Sub-Commander T'Pol, Commander Tucker, and Lieutenant Reed and beam them to those co-ordinates.//

//Aye, sir. Transporting now.//

* * *

"Are they aboard, Commander?" Zlar inquired.

"Yes, Captain. They are alive but unconscious," she replied.

"Good. Have the doctor make certain they are in good health-particularly Commander Tucker, as I believe he has sustained multiple torture wounds. Make certain they are in a state of unconscious which will last until they are reunited with their ship," Zlar instructed.

As he gave his last instructions, the Tholian ship moved a considerable distance from the Gabbaccian one, with the Tholian shuttlepod nestled safely against the hull. The vastness of space made the distance rather relative, however. In the end, the seemingly large distance between the two vessels did not prevent the Tholian Captain and crew from having a good view of the Gabbaccian ship being engulfed by the Tholian energy web. The process had been accelerated in recent years.

**If our ancestors had possessed such quick moving technology, Kirk's Enterprise would never have escaped,** Zlar mused as the Gabbaccian hull began to buckle under the pressure of the web. Considering the importance of Kirk to the survival of the Federation, Zlar was thankful that the technology had not existed then-for the same reason he was thankful to have been put in charge of his current mission for the Tholian Empire.

For Zlar knew, surely, that the survival of the Tholian Empire depended upon the survival of the Federation. Certainly, the two factions would have several centuries of strife until the ultimate moment of peace and co-operation attained in Zlar's time of the thirty-first century. Still, Zlar and his superiors-part of a larger collective of a faction known as the temporal police knew that T'Vel's conception had led to the destruction of both. It was for this reason that Zlar's ship had been sent on this mission.

Yes, he mused as the Letal's engines exploded from the external pressure being thrust upon them from the Tholian web, Alanna and Leland had been there to stop the Gabbaccians. But his superiors, and in fact Zlar himself, did not trust that outcome. For, it turned out, Alanna's actions would only lead to another temporal distortion: she, failing to see the importance of her own birth, would prevent that as well. By preventing her own birth, she would not be available to go back in time to prevent the birth of T'Vel...

Time travel paradoxes, indeed. Zlar's father had always said it took a 'special sort' to deal with them. Perhaps he had been right.

In either event, it was a matter best left to the professionals. Something Captain Tucker and her crew had decidedly not been.

As the last explosion cleared, leaving only debris in place of what had once been the Letal, Zlar contacted his crew aboard the shuttlepod.

"Progress report, Commander?" he inquired. His tone made clear his dissatisfaction with having had to wait so long for the report.

"Sir...Commander Tucker and Lieutenant Reed are fine. Tucker has received numerous superficial injuries, but the doctor has healed them and sees no reason to fear long term repercussions."

"That is excellent news. How is Sub-Commander T'Pol? Is she injured?" Zlar demanded.

There was a slight hesitation in Puida's reply. "Well, Captain, the doctor had noted severe distress in her mental pathways."

"He employed the usage of the Romulan memory device?" Zlar assumed.

"Yes."

"Relay the contents to the bridge terminal."

"Aye, Sir. Transmitting now," Puida's faithful reply came through.

Zlar watched and marveled at the transmission. The Romulan memory device had frequently been used as a means of extracting information from enemies of the Romulan empire for centuries. The device allowed memories to be literally seen. Combined with Tholian technology, Captain Zlar was literally able to "watch"  
T'Pol's memories. The doctor had been able to zone in on the ones that her subconscious had been repeating in her unconscious state.

* * *

A Vulcanoid child with soft blond hair and bright blue eyes ran excitedly to the door as she heard it open.

"Mother," she greeted, trying to sound as unemotional as possible.

"Daughter," T'Pol extended her hand to the child in the formal Vulcan greeting and was surprised-and rewarded when the child instead leaned forward and kissed her on the cheek.

"You learned that from Mr. Reed, correct?" T'Pol inquired.

"Yes, mother. Is it...improper?" the child frowned at the thought.

"Your frown is inappropriate. Your kiss is as well. However, I do find the latter...pleasant."

The scene shifted. T'Pol stood beside her Enterprise colleagues on board the Letal, listening to the conversation between Alanna and Leland.

"Alanna, I wanted...this is not the answer-forbidding your birth and T'Vel's. T'Vel is a brilliant scientistâ€”"Leland argued.

"She's a cold blooded murderer," Alanna replied.

"Only because she was raised to be," Leland supplanted.

"And how do you suggest to change that?" It was not Alanna that spoke. Rather, it was her mother.

Both Leland and Alanna looked at her with surprise.

"Alanna was such a caring person because of who she was raised with-in a loving home. If Alanna and T'Vel could be combined-into one entity, the universe would be a better place. Instead of being two children conceived on this day, there would be one. Instead of it being raised by the Empire, it would be raised by T'Pol, as Alanna was."

* * *

Turning off the terminal, Zlar paused before contacting his away team. He was fairly certain what would need to be done. "Zlar to Puida."

"Yes, Captain?"

"What are the recommendations of the doctor and yourself?"

"Sub-Commander T'Pol is under severe mental duress-especially for a Vulcan. The source of that duress is apparently the thought that the child she could have is about to be taken away from her, given the contrasting scenarios we saw on the tape. Using typical procedure to erase them would prove too difficult, and even potentially harmful to the Sub-Commander, as her memories are, in part, caused by a Vulcan mind meld."

Zlar mentally nodded. Even in the thirty-first century, Vulcan mind melds were somewhat of a mystery. Dangerous things to tamper with, in any event. The image of the blond haired Vulcan had obviously been Alanna, as a little girl.  
Something T'Pol could not have known on her own.

"Then our recommendation is to return T'Pol as she is, Captain. She will suffer a mental breakdown within two months at this rate. The other two, however, will be fine," Puida assured him.

"We cannot do that, Puida," Zlar stated. "Record tapes show that four months from now, in both the altered timeline and the 'correct' timeline, the Enterprise crew will face a hostile alien threat. Captain Archer will be taken prisoner and the Enterprise will survive only because of the command decisions made by Sub-Commander T'Pol."

"She remained on the ship, even while pregnant with Alanna?"

"Yes, Commander. Don't sound so surprised. Females of many species work very near to the time of child birth." Zlar admonished.

"Intriguing. I suppose it is in keeping with her Vulcan heritage."

"Women of the species go into seclusion in the eighth month, to allow the mother sufficient mental preparation for the birth, supposedly. Sub-Commander T'Pol and the Enterprise crew were...delayed getting back to Vulcan and the child was born on the Enterprise," Zlar noted. Again, he marveled at the clarity of the records which remained in tact, even if the timelines did not.

"I see. Then the only way to prevent her mental breakdown is to create a pregnancy," Puida decided.

Zlar was surprised, to say the least. "How do you come to that conclusion?" he asked of his second in command.

"Captain, Vulcans are strong, durable creatures, both mentally and physically. It takes an event of enormous proportions to disturb their mental state. In the Sub-Commander's case, she has been given proof of time travel that the Vulcan Science Directorate does not believe possible in this decade, a loving relationship with a child she cares deeply for, the death of that relationship, the death of a close friend, and the obliteration of her homeworld. She is close to snapping. Perhaps she will not, after all. If we take the chance, however, and she is not in command when the Enterprise is attacked four months from nowâ€”"

"Then the Enterprise will be lost," Zlar stated with finality.

"It is very possible, although not a certainty," Puida agreed.

"And you think this pregnancy will deter her breakdown in what fashion? Shouldn't the presence of a child only confirm the bleak future she saw in the mind meld?" Zlar questioned.

There was a slight pause in which Zlar could almost hear Puida smile. "Not if the child is not exactly Alanna, sir."

"What do you mean?"

"The tape, sir? The last conversation?" Puida prodded. "If the child instead of being purely Alanna was instead a combination of the genes that made Alanna and T'Vel, then that would possibly give the Vulcan hope. Possibly preventing a nervous breakdown."

"I don't like the presence of all these 'possibilities.' Too many 'what ifs'. But we have precious little choice. The doctor thinks he can perform this procedure?"

"He believes it shall be a rather simple one, sir," Puida replied.

"Then you may proceed with all due haste."

* * *

Jonathan Archer was close to giving up on his missing crewmen when they came across the shuttlepod.

To his utter shock, the shuttlepod was one of their own-a Starfleet shuttlepod.  
"Life signs?" he asked of the Ensign filling in for T'Pol at the science station.

"Three sir," came the reply. Then there was a slight pause. "Um, I think the sensors are malfunctioning sir. The machinery reads keeps bouncing back and forth between three and four."

**Bouncing?** Archer swore sorrowfully that if the Cosmic Entities in charge of the universe would allow him to have his somber Tactical and Science Officers back, he would never, ever, **ever** mock their need for protocol and structure on the ship. **Hell, I might even make people start saluting each other. Whatever it takes so that I don't have to hear the word 'bouncing' on the bridge. Ever again.** "Perhaps you should work on fixing the equipment, Ensign," he suggested dryly.

"They are sending out a distress call, sir. But they aren't answering any hails," Ensign Sato informed him.

Knowing what his duty called for, Archer instructed Ensign Tanner to bring use the grappler to bring the ship to the landing bay.

After notifying Doctor Phlox of a potential medical emergency in the shuttle bay, Archer turned to Tanner in a motion that would have made Lieutenant Reed very happy, if he had been present. "Bring a security detail, Tanner," the Captain instructed. "And meet me in the landing bay."

Upon arriving at the landing bay, Archer was relieved to note that his precautions were not necessary. There, in the Starfleet shuttlepod whose appearance Archer could not begin to explain, sat the three missing members of the Enterprise's crew.

"They're unconscious, Captain, but not their injuries are not substantial. I do need to get them to sickbay," Phlox told him after a preliminary examination.  
The security detail was very helpful with assisting Phlox in getting his patients to sickbay.

* * *

The last of the three to awaken was T'Pol. Doctor Phlox was somewhat concerned by this development. Taking into account her condition, however, he relaxed and shooed away her very worried colleagues. The Captain, Commander Tucker, and Lieutenant Reed had reluctantly agreed to leave, after making the doctor promise to notify them the moment T'Pol awoke.

**Well,** Doctor Phlox thought hesitantly, **that may not be entirely correct, given the nature of T'Pol's condition.**

She came to slowly, and looking a bit confused at first. Hurrying to her side, Phlox was as cheerful as he could be. "Welcome back to the Enterprise, Sub-Commander."

The normally strong Vulcan did not attempt to raise herself immediately. Such an uncharacteristic action concerned the Denobulan. Lying still, the Sub-Commander looked at Phlox for a moment before asking softly, "We have been returned to the Enterprise?"

"Yes, Sub-Commander."

"Lieutenant Reed and Commander Tucker?"

"They have been returned as well. They were in a bit better shape than you, so I allowed them to leave."

T'Pol did not doubt the truth of the doctor's statement. Unquestionably, both Reed and Tucker would have been more mentally sound than she was currently. As the doctor continued speaking, she attempted to force herself to listen, although she found doing so was extremely difficult. **I must meditate immediately,** she thought. Multiple images swirled in her head. Conflicting scenes of destruction and tenderness played out in her head, threatening to break T'Pol's Vulcan reserve.

"Captain Archer mentioned something about 'raiding a shuttlepod' for a substance known as bourbon. Not familiar with it myself," Phlox continued merrily.

With a contained sigh, T'Pol forced herself up into a sitting position. "It is an alcoholic substance of a rather strong magnitude, Doctor. Do I have permission to leave? I must meditate."

"Before you go, T'Pol, there is something I must inform you of." The doctor paused most uncharacteristically and unintentionally. Knowing T'Pol better than most of the crew, Phlox was rather certain how she would react to the news he was about to share. Turning his sharp medical gaze upon her, he remarked as casually as possible, "You are pregnant."

The images came at once, and unbidden. Vulcan gone. Earth enslaved. Two offspring of her own genes leaders in a galactic war but on opposite sides. Galactic chaos. T'Pol ached at the thought. It took all of her Vulcan reserve to push aside such thoughts to enable her to ask of Doctor Phlox,"I assume whatever I say to you in sickbay will remain strictly confidential?"

Curious, Phlox replied immediately, "Of course it will, Sub-Commander. "

"Then I need to you scan the child's DNA. I need to know if the father is indeed...Commander Tucker."

Phlox's curiosity was indeed piqued, but he did not question T'Pol further.  
"Hmm..." he noted. "Most curious."

"What is it, Doctor?" T'Pol demanded, not bothering to mask the emotion in her voice.

"I read the DNA of you and Commander Tucker, and another," he responded.

The bleak images stopped momentarily. "Cross reference the DNA of Lieutenant Reed," she managed.

"Indeed. Let me cross reference the sample...ah, yes. It appears, Sub-Commander that congratulations are in order. I do not know how this is possible, but it appears that you, Commander Tucker, and Lieutenant Reed are going to be parents."

**Lieutenant Reed and Commander Tucker.** There would be no T'Vel or Alanna. Instead, it seemed, the brilliant scientist and peace maker had truly been combined into one entity.

* * *

It was a week later, after giving herself plenty of time for meditation, T'Pol sat waiting in her quarters for Reed and Tucker to arrive. She had asked them, cryptically, to attend dinner with her this morning at the start of alpha shift. They had both been surprised, but had agreed, both with their own unique nuances.

Reed had flushed and looked slightly embarrassed and Commander Tucker had flashed her a smirk.

Glancing at the PADD in her hand, T'Pol re-read the invitation from the High Command. The post at the Information Ministry was hers, Soval promised.

* * *

The news of your condition has caused some discussion on the planet.  
However, the child is a scientific achievement and will do much to further medical advancement, if it survives. Regardless, the majority of the Ambassadors feel a Vulcan-human child will only further strengthen ties between our species.  
It is therefore more desirable that you return to Vulcan to raise the child. A Vulcan-human hybrid with human tendencies is undesirable whereas a Vulcan-human hybrid who follows the path of Surak has intriguing possibilities.

* * *

T'Pol mentally winced at the wording, but a week's worth of meditation had helped to reinforce her Vulcan shields. Something she was certain she would need when Reed and Tucker arrived.

She was not disappointed.

They arrived on time, both looking a little apprehensive about being there. She had not yet informed them of her condition. It would, undoubtedly, add to their mental unrest.

"Gentlemen, have a seat," she offered. The food she had arranged to be specially delivered from chef was positioned on the table, waiting for them. T'Pol had been careful to arrange their seating positions in a circle. She did not want this to be a confrontational situation. Nor did she want there to be an appearance of rank.

"So, T'Pol, what's this all about?" Trip asked, as he bit into his meatloaf. To his disgust, he noticed it was resequenced. Still, he'd been eating pretty much non-stop since they returned from the alien ship and decided he was still hungry. He began to munch.

Lieutenant Reed simply looked at her questionably. T'Pol appreciated it. There was no need here for him to repeat what Commander Tucker had already asked for. He waited patiently for T'Pol to speak.

"I have read your official reports given to the Captain concerning what occurred on the Gabbaccian ship," she said slowly, slicing deliberately into her broccoli. It's taste was not as pleasant as she remembered. "I have found Lieutenant, that your memory and mine coincide. Commander Tucker's report was most interesting. Have you have time to review it, Lieutenant?"

Malcolm frowned slightly. "No, I have not read the actual report, Sub-Commander. However, I have talked with Commander Tucker and he has shared the conversation he had with Alanna."

T'Pol nodded. Trip sighed and set his fork down with a rather loud thud. "We know, we know, T'Pol. The Vulcan Science Directorate has determined time travel to be impossible, right?" he smirked.

"The Vulcan Science Directorate is incorrect, I believe," T'Pol responded.

Both Trip and Malcolm looked at her in surprise. T'Pol took their silence as a motion to continue. "The memories of Alanna that were impressed upon me through the mind meld were unlikely to have been forged. If her memories were correct, then she was my child. If she was my child, then she would have had to have traveled through time. To travel through time, the Vulcan Science Directorate would have been incorrect."

Trip and Malcolm exchanged a look."A meld?" Malcolm questioned. "When she pressed her fingers to your face? That's a meld?"

"Yes. It is an exchange of thoughts," T'Pol supplied. "There is additional proof of the validity of her claims. I am pregnant."

The silence was nearly tangible in the room when Malcolm spoke again. "Well, Commander, Sub-Commander, I suppose a congratulations is in order."

"For you as well, Lieutenant," T'Pol replied.

"What do you mean?" Malcolm asked, just a hint of anger to his voice. "If this whole scenario is true, my child is off being trained to plot against Earth. I hardly think a congratulations is in order, Sub-Commander."

"The child is the product of a mixture of genes containing the DNA of myself, Commander Tucker and yourself. Based upon such evidence, I do not believe T'Vel and Alanna will develop into separate entities. Rather they have been combined."

Another silence.

"Ya mean...Malcolm and me are both gonna be the fathers of this kid?" Trip managed. T'Pol could only nod.

Malcolm and Trip were both silent, considering the ramifications this had upon them, T'Pol, and the Enterprise.

"What do you intend to do?" Malcolm asked finally.

"I shall stay on board the Enterprise until the eighth month of pregnancy," T'Pol responded. "At such a time, it is typical that a female Vulcan goes into seclusion. Much meditation is needed to prepare for childbirth."

"How long until you return to the ship?" Trip asked.

"I shall not be returning, Commander," she replied.

"What do ya mean, ya won't be returning?" Trip demanded. "Ya just gonna take the kid and leave? Where do ya intend to go?" Trip's accent thickened with each progressively angry word.

"I have been offered a position at the Vulcan Information Ministry," T'Pol responded, handing Trip a PADD which contained the message from Soval. Malcolm read it as well and it made him distinctly uncomfortable.

It furthered Trip's anger. " 'Intriguing possibilities?'" he spat. "That's what the child is going to be? A science experiment? The kid is gonna be half human and ya intend to completely disregardâ€”"

"I fail to see how the manner in which I intend to raise my child affects you, Commander Tucker," T'Pol stated. The man was always irrational, but more so tonight than usual.

"YOUR child?" Trip asked in disbelief. "Did ya miss the part about it sharin' my DNA too?"

"I am aware of that fact."

"Then how can ya think I'd be okay with ya takin' it and leavin'? How can ya think I'd be okay with never seein' my kid again?"

T'Pol's head ached. "You have not demonstrated such parental yearnings in the past. You gave up the chance to rear the Xyrillian child quite readily, as I recall. It was logical to assumeâ€”"

T'Pol was interrupted as Trip leaned forward and whispered, "That was different." With that he left the room.

T'Pol turned to Lieutenant Reed. "I have upset him," she stated simply.

Malcolm was still looking at the PADD which contained the message from Ambassador Soval. He answered T'Pol absently, his mind elsewhere. "Humans have a condition known as regret, Sub-Commander. You may not be familiar with it, but I'm certain Trip is."

"Indeed?" she did not need to prod further. Perhaps Commander Tucker had not disregarded the incident as she had believed.

"When we were on the shuttlepod, Trip and I...and we thought we were going to die, Trip was certain we were not. I asked him how he could be so certain. Do you know what he replied?"

T'Pol waited steadily.

"He said, 'I'm confident there will be a Charles Tucker the Fourth one day.' Family, and children are very important to him, Sub-Commander. He will not give in easily if you intend to raise the child away from us."

T'Pol processed that information. Privately, she was pleased. Families were very important to Vulcans. "And what are your...feelings...on the matter, Lieutenant?"

Reed was quiet for a moment before he re-processed the information. "I have been thinking of T'Vel," he said finally. "What Trip told me, along with what was said on the Gabbaccian ship. I gather she must have had a rather unhappy childhood."

T'Pol wondered what the relevance was of this story to their current situation, in which there would not be a T'Vel. Regardless, she allowed him to continue.  
"She must have endured rigorous military training. No time for fun, no expressions of love. All work and no play. Must have made T'Vel a very unhappy little girl." The man saying these words was not the same rigid lieutenant that stood on the bridge every day. His shoulders were slumped and his voice somewhat quiet.

"I suppose that to be true, Lieutenant," she agreed. "However, I am not certain what that has to do with our current situation."

"I imagine it will be the same for her on Vulcan, if she is viewed for having 'intriguing possibilities,'" Malcolm said simply. "I had a similar childhood, Sub-Commander. I do not wish...will not allow a similar occurrence for my own child. Raising it with Vulcan values is one thing, but it is quite another to submit her to being little more than a living..." Malcolm trailed off, at a loss for words.

It was not like the Lieutenant to be as openly emotional as he currently was. T'Pol mentally wondered at the capacity of humans to display such emotional bonding to an entity they had known about for less than an hour. It concerned her and was certainly proof that humans were unstable creatures.

**But the child will be cared for in their presence,** came the thought.

It was then that T'Pol knew the truth. She would not remain on the Enterprise, as there was no place on the starship for a child. Yet, she could not return to Vulcan, as there was no place on that planet for either Lieutenant Reed or Commander Tucker.

She was not certain exactly what the future would hold at that point. But beyond a shadow of a doubt, she knew that the three of them would face it together.

* * *

T'Pol found Commander Tucker in the cargo bay, making repairs. While she would not tell him to his face, she found his ability to use work as a means to relieve his frustration to be a worthwhile character trait. If their child were to inherit such a trait, T'Pol would be pleased.

T'Pol took a moment to reflect on that. Their child. And Lieutenant Reed's.  
Would such a child ever be able to fully embrace the tenets of Surak? It was unlikely, particularly given the insistence by Lieutenant Reed and Commander Tucker to take part in the child's life. Yet another reason she would not be returning to Vulcan with the child, as Soval had wished.

"Commander Tucker," she stated evenly, in an attempt to gain his attention. It was effective.

His face was a slighter redder hue than was typical for him, T'Pol noted. It was, no doubt, a sign of emotional distress. T'Pol wondered idly if her child would demonstrate the same characteristic. For that matter, would the child flush red or green? She had not had the opportunity to observe Alanna blushing.

"What is it, T'Pol? Come to rub in another one of my mistakes?" Trip greeted angrily.

"No."

"No? Perhaps you've compiled a complete list of all the reasons why I'd be an awful father? Surely conclusive evidence why I shouldn't have any right to be around a kid that has my DNA?"

"No."

"Really? Then perhaps you've come to tell me just how superior you think Vulcans are? Which certainly explains why my kid should be raised entirely amongst your people?"

"No."

"Really? Then maybeâ€”"

"Maybe you should shut up, Trip, and let the Sub-Commander tell you what she came to tell you in the first place." The sound of Malcolm's distinct British accent interrupted Trip in mid-speech. Both Trip and T'Pol turned to look at him in surprise. Even T'Pol, with her superior Vulcan hearing, hadn't heard him come in.

"I was looking for him as well," Malcolm said to T'Pol.

"What do ya need, Malcolm?" Trip asked with a good deal less irritation than he had showed T'Pol.

Malcolm chose to address T'Pol. "If you would prefer to be the bearer of the news, I'll go."

T'Pol addressed him in return. "No, you may stay. It affects you as well."

Trip's temper, already short because of his confrontation with T'Pol, snapped. "Now that you've gotten that sorted out, maybe one of you can fill ME in."

T'Pol returned her gaze to him. "Are you willing to let me finish uninterrupted this time, Commander?" she asked.

Trip sighed and slumped his shoulders in defeat. "I promise to be good, Sub-Commander."

"I am unaware if that is even possible in your case, Commander Tucker."

"Me? I'm not the one whoâ€”"

"Trip," Malcolm interrupted in a warning tone. "Sub-Commander, perhaps it would be prudent to tell him the news now." Inwardly, Malcolm wondered if he had been sentenced to serving as referee between Trip and T'Pol for the rest of his child's life. Surely, no heavenly deity was that cruel.

T'Pol nodded. "That is sensible. I am certain his ability to control himself will not last." Before Trip could interrupt her, she continued, "I have come to alert you to the fact that I have reconsidered my previous position concerning the child. I will not raise the child on Vulcan. Nor will I attempt to raise it in a capacity aware from either you or Lieutenant Reed."

Trip looked at her in surprise. That was clearly the last thing he had expected to hear. "What made you change your mind?" he asked finally.

T'Pol glanced up at Malcolm for a moment before returning her gaze to Trip. "Lieutenant Reed and I engaged in further discourse after you left the room in an unseemly display of emotions." T'Pol's brows furrowed a bit when she added, "If I have caused you undue emotional distress, I apologize."

"An apology from you, T'Pol? I never thought I'd live to see the day," Trip retorted.

The look he received stated clearly that he would not live to see many more days if he continued to press his luck. "As Doctor Phlox can assure you, pregnancy causes a number of severe hormonal imbalances. Undoubtedly, these imbalances will have an effect on my logical processes."

Trip grinned happily. "So, what you're sayin' is that we should look forward to nine more months of ya bein' emotional?" he teased.

"A Vulcan pregnancy typically lasts for ten months, Commander," T'Pol replied.

Trip did not try to stifle his groan. "Oh, come on, T'Pol. We're havin' a baby, for cryin' out loud. Can't ya call me Trip?"

T'Pol paused before answering, "I shall consider it."

Trip's smile re-emerged. "Good. Ya know, even Malcolm calls me 'Trip' when we're off duty, and he's almost as Vulcan as you are. Say, speakin' of which, about the baby..."

T'Pol waited expectantly.

"Well...how Vulcan exactly do you expect her to be?"

"I am uncertain exactly what you are alluding to, Commander."

Trip sighed. "Trip, T'Pol. And I mean...she's not gonna be a full Vulcanâ€”"

"Nor will she be a full human, Commander," T'Pol reminded him.

Malcolm rubbed his temples and mentally hoped the offspring would not inherit such a penchant for arguing. Reflecting upon his own teenage years with his father, he decided such a result was unlikely. Poor, poor child.

"I know that, T'Pol," Trip informed the Vulcan. "But she's likely to have all sorts of human traits you'll deem undesirable."

"It is likely."

Trip nearly growled in agitation. "Malcolm!" he protested. "Ya want to help me out here?" he demanded of his friend.

Taking pity on the Commander, Malcolm offered, "What I think Trip is attempting to ask, Sub-Commander, is what parts of the Vulcan heritage you plan to insist upon installing and which parts...are optional."

T'Pol raised an eyebrow at the explanation. "You could have merely phrased your question in that manner, Commander."

"Trip, T'Pol. And I did phrase it that way, T'Pol. Ya just didn't understand me."

It was perhaps the hormones, or perhaps it was the effect of Commander Tucker, that made T'Pol fight off the urge to sigh. "If you had stated it in that manner, I would have understood you with the ease I comprehended Malcolm's question."

"I don't believe it," Trip grumbled to himself. "I know ya do it on purpose, T'Pol. Just like ya call Ensign Sato "Hoshi" sometimes. Just to irk me. But ya still refuse to call me Trip."

"In answer to your inquiry, we do have an additional ten months to discuss such matters. I assure you however, that I realize the child shall not necessarily embrace all of the tenants of logic that my people believe in. That is partially why I will not be returning to Vulcan with the child," T'Pol responded, ignoring Trip's protests.

This seemed to satisfy Commander Tucker, until T'Pol spoke again, "I am concerned however, with your desire to raise the child aboard the Enterprise. A starship is not a safe environment for a child."

"T'Pol, I'm a starship engineer. Malcolm's a starship tactical officer. Hell, you're a science officer. Where else do you suppose we go?"

T'Pol folded her hands in front of her before she spoke. "There is a science station locatedâ€”"

"A science station? What is Malcolm supposed to do on a science station?" Trip demanded.

"Science stations need tactical officers as well as starships," Malcolm supplied.

Trip shot him a surprised look. "I suppose ya agree with her, then?"

Malcolm nodded. "The Enterprise is not a cruise ship, Trip. You should know that as well as anyone."

Trip shook his head. "We've been out here two years, and we've only lost one crewman," he argued. "You're both just being paranoid."

"We've been extremely lucky," Malcolm responded.

Growing weary, T'Pol decided the conversation could wait. "Perhaps this is another issue we will discuss for the next ten months," she offered, as she began to stand. She stood a trifle too soon for her body, however, and was hit with a slight wave of dizziness. Seeing her state, both Trip and Malcolm offered their assistance.

When she had regained her composure, Trip smiled, almost sympathetically. "Dizzy?"

"Yes," T'Pol responded. "I believe you may remember the sensation from your Xyrillian encounter?"

Malcolm chuckled softly, while Trip threw up his hands in exasperation. "Ya know, I'm going to let that comment slide just because I know how much of an emotional experience bein' pregnant can be. And given your condition, I don't want to upset ya too much."

"That would be wise, Commander, as my condition will not prevent me from applying the nerve pinch if necessary," T'Pol responded. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have events which require my attention elsewhere."

After she left, Trip looked at Malcolm questionably. "Damn, what'd ya say to her to get her to change her mind ?" he inquired.

Malcolm's eyes twinkled. "It was quite an emotional reasoning," he responded. More seriously, he added, "You know, she's right about the Enterprise being too dangerous for a child to be raised on."

Trip rolled his eyes. "You're both paranoid," he repeated.

* * *

Ten months later, Trip was beginning to regret having ever told Malcolm or T'Pol that they were paranoid. The revelation had occurred to Trip first when they had been on the bridge in the midst of battle with the Klingons. An attempt to re-capture their Captain, yet again, Trip thought to himself bitterly.

Of course, Trip wasn't truly angry with the Captain. He was more angry at the circumstances that had led Trip to be sitting outside sickbay, waiting for the impending arrival of his child with no idea whether she, her mother, or her other father would survive the night. Namely, the three months of near continuous fighting with the Klingons that had culminated in a shuttlepod skirmish which had placed Malcolm in the sickbay next to T'Pol. Captain Archer's capture three months prior had forced the Enterprise into several heated battles with the hostile aliens in an attempt to regain their leader. It had also placed a very pregnant T'Pol in command. As the Captain had been abducted prior to the start of her medical leave, T'Pol refused to leave her post for meditation purposes until Jonathan Archer was safely back on board and able to resume command. T'Pol had informed Trip-several times, as had been necessary-that while meditation was preferable before labor, it was not a biological necessity.  
Not that meditation would have helped much given circumstances, Trip thought angrily.

For the umpteenth time, Trip closed his eyes and listened desperately for noise from sickbay. To no avail.

The absolute silence coming from sickbay terrified Trip. T'Pol was in labor-women in labor were supposed to yell-scream-cry-curse-all of which required noise making. **She's a Vulcan, Trip,** he reminded himself. But surely, even Vulcans allowed themselves exceptions where childbirth was concerned?

Apparently they did not. Either that, or the jolt that Enterprise had sustained during the time they had been trying to protect the returning shuttlepod had done more than just knock T'Pol on her back.

* * *

"Move us to intercept, Ensign," T'Pol instructed Mayweather.

"Aye, Sub-Commander. Moving to intercept," Mayweather replied.

"Sub-Commander? I'm reading an explosion in the shuttlepod," Ensign Tanner, filling in for Malcolm, had reported.

T'Pol rose and walked over to the tactical station to investigate his findings. The Klingon phaser blast hit them simultaneously.

* * *

Trip desperately wiped the palms of his hands on his uniform, trying in vain to rid himself of the green liquid that was no longer there, but had completely covered him only hours before.

In the quiet aloneness of the hallway, Trip allowed his thoughts to shift to the other occupant of the sickbay. Malcolm.

T'Pol's silence could be explained away because she was a Vulcan. But surely, Malcolm had no such reason to be so quiet. Unless the exploding console in the shuttlepod had done more damage than Trip wanted to contemplate.

* * *

"Commander, we're being hailed by the shuttlepod," Hoshi informed him. T'Pol may have been in sickbay, but he was stuck here. In command. The last place he wanted to be.

"Trip, this is the Captain. Have Phlox meet us in the landing bay."

"Are ya alright, Cap'n?"

"I'm fine, Trip. Malcolm...it's a medical emergency, Trip."

* * *

"Commander Tucker?" Phlox's voice lacked the usual upbeat nature it normally had.

Not a good sign, Trip was certain. Not trusting his voice to speak, Trip simply looked at the doctor expectantly.

"The child is doing well, Commander. A healthy baby girl. The first human-Vulcan hybrid to live full term, in fact." Phlox began. Trip felt his spirits lift somewhat. The baby was happy and healthy. That was a wonderful start.

"T'Pol? Malcolm?" Trip prodded when Phlox did not immediately volunteer the information. The happy feeling was in danger of being replaced by dread.

Phlox shook his head. "I've done all I can, Commander. Both Lieutenant Reed and Sub-Commander T'Pol have lost critical amounts of blood. If either of them survive the night, I'll be surprised."

Trip leaned against the corridor wall for support. "They're the two strongest, most stubborn people I know," Trip informed Phlox. "They will make it."

Phlox mentally categorized the denial that Trip was experiencing, and decided to ignore it. He was correct in determining the nature of Phlox's patients. But, whether stubbornness alone would be enough to sustain them had yet to be seen. "The child requires nourishment. I have prepared a supplement. Would you like to administer it, or shall I?"

**Feeding,** Trip's brain realized somewhat detachedly from the rest of his body. **He's asking if I want to feed my daughter.** "I'll do it," he said resolutely.  
Trip followed Phlox into sickbay remorsefully. The first sight that greeted him was T'Pol. Her normally olive skin was much paler than could be healthy. He couldn't allow his gaze to linger for very long.

Instead, he focused on the tiny bundle of white clothing laying in an incubation chamber on the other side of sickbay. Walking over to the chamber, he gazed at the occupant with wonderment. After ten months of waiting, ten months of speculation, and ten months of anticipation, she was here. He was surprised to see that she was wide awake. Quiet as a mouse, but wide awake. Trip couldn't help but recall an earlier conversation with T'Pol.

**

"Do Vulcan babies cry?"

"That question severely lacks in logic, Commander."

"How does it lack in logic? It's an honest question!"

"Vulcan children are not born with the ability to communicate, any more than human children are. How else are they supposed to communicate their needs, other than by crying?"

**

Picking the child up, Trip continued to marvel at the creature as Phlox handed him a bottle with which to feed her. The baby took it readily.

As she continued to nurse, Trip took in her full appearance-all eight pounds, 11 inches of her. He noted with delight the tiny pointed ears, the cheerfully curly dirty blond curls, and the soft gray eyes which stared back up at him. **T'Pol's ears, my hair, and Malcolm's eyes,** Trip thought to himself. The attentive glance of the child in his arms made Trip feel immensely guilty. Although he knew he was imagining it, it was as though the baby was asking him, 'Where are my other parents?'

"If either of them survive the night, I'll be surprised." Phlox had said. The idea that Trip would be all alone to raise their child horrified him. **I can't. I don't know the first thing about changing diapers, let alone Vulcan logic. I can't do this by myself.** Briefly, Trip recalled the conversation with Alanna that had taken place ten months earlier. In her universe, Trip hadn't survived to be part of her life. Had she helped to alter history so that Trip was the only one to survive?

* * *

"I'm just saying that maybe we should reconsider T'Pol's proposal for the science station."

"Malcolm, look, I know you're worried about safety. Hell, it's what makes you such a good tactical officer. But, I've worked all my life for this post. I refuse to give it up as easily as you and she seem think I should."

* * *

Malcolm had been right. So had T'Pol. A starship was too dangerous of a place to raise a child. It was life on a starship, after all, that had placed their child in jeopardy of losing two of her parents.

Leaning down closer to her tiny pointed ears, Trip whispered, "I promise ya, kiddo, if your momma and other dad make it, all three of us will move to that quaint little science station quicker than you can say 'warp drive.'"

**

The goodbye party had been a brief, somber affair. The Enterprise crew was loosing three of their senior officers. In the words of Travis Mayweather, "It seems awfully morbid to have a party at a time like this." Regardless, Trip had made a vow to his daughter and he intended to keep it.

T'Pol and Malcolm had been surprised by his change of heart, but both had been relieved. Still, Malcolm knew it hadn't been an easy choice for his friend. Which is why Malcolm had come looking for him now and found him, on the science station's promenade, watching the departure of the ship that had been their home for two years.

"Trip?" he inquired tentatively.

"Hey, Malcolm," Trip responded with a small grin. "Ya get T'Lanna settled in?"  
Malcolm nodded. "Yes. She's asleep, finally. She's inherited a good dose of stubbornness from all of us, I'm afraid."

Trip chuckled softly. "Yeah, we're in for a fun time when she becomes a teenager, huh?"

They stood in silence for a couple more minutes, as the Enterprise became smaller and smaller.

"I hear the Captain didn't take it very well," Malcolm ventured quietly. He was referring to the news of their transfer.

Trip snorted. "You could say that. He took the opportunity to remind me that the child had two other parents. In fact," Trip's voice lowered and the bitterness became apparent. "He voiced the opinion that quote, 'She's not really your daughter.'"

Malcolm gasped in horror, "That's an awful thing to say. Of course T'Lanna's your daughter. Every bit as much as mine or T'Pol's."

"Yeah, that's what I told him."

"Before or after you slugged him?"

"After."

"Good for you."

Trip looked at Malcolm in astonishment. "Good for me? Did the consummate professional Lieutenant Malcolm Reed just congratulate me for slugging the Captain?"

"I believe so," Malcolm replied. "Your bad influence, no doubt."

"Of course," Trip smirked. More seriously, he added, "This really is the best place for her, Malcolm. It's more diverse than the Enterprise crew ever was-there's Andorians, Vulcans, humans, and what is Lieutenant C'Lak again?"

"Alpha Centurian," Malcolm supplied.

"Right. Alpha Centurian. What better place for the first human-Vulcan hybrid to grow up?" Trip pointed out.

Malcolm nodded in agreement. "It is quite an extraordinary station. The only place in the galaxy with such a diverse crew. More like what I expected space to be like when I joined Starfleet."

Trip glanced at him curiously. "Speakin' of which, how'd Stewie take the news?"

Malcolm winced. "You and the Captain had a more productive conversation, I believe," he replied.

"Well, isn't it lovely that our dear friends and family members are so supportive?" Trip remarked sarcastically.

"Then it is fortunate we have one another," Malcolm supplied.

Trip smiled and slung his arm across Malcolm's shoulders. "Sure is, Mal."

* * *

The Thirty-Second Century...

In the Time Line Preservation Headquarters, Captain Zlar and his senior crew listened to Admiral Baloka as he briefed them on the results of their mission.

"From their posts at Science Station Two, Commander Tucker, Lieutenant Reed, and Sub-Commander T'Pol continued to advance the ideologies that formed the foundation of the Federation. As a result, the United Federation of Planets formed in the year 2161, as it was always meant to do. Lieutenant C'Lak is the first Alpha Centurian to serve on the Federation council."

Zlar spoke up. "I assume that because of the Federation's growth, the Tholian-Federation alliance in the 26th century â€”"

"Occurred without incident. The Klingons were defeated by the combined Tholian-Federation forces," Baloka confirmed.

"What of the child?" Puida asked.

"She became part of the warp eight project, served as a Federation Ambassador, and served on the Federation Council. Most importantly, her very existence continued to boggle the minds of Vulcan and human scientists. As a result, technology and medicine advanced well enough to produce a second Vulcan-human hybrid in the twenty-third century. Multiple cross-species breeding has occurred since, as you are well aware," Baloka replied.

Zlar spoke up again. "The careers of Tucker, Reed, and T'Pol?"

"Continued relatively peacefully. Reed took advantage of the time on the science station to advance his research. As a result, he fully developed the shielding technology used through the twenty-seventh century. T'Pol continued her work on the science station until the time of death Reed, upon which time she and Commander Tucker returned to Vulcan."

The crew stared at the Admiral in surprise. "Commander Tucker lived on Vulcan?" Zlar inquired in disbelief. "How...?"

Baloka laughed softly. "Strange as it may have seemed, all those years living on the science station with T'Pol and a vast variety of other aliens apparently mellowed the Commander. He lived to the age of 110, and served in the latter years as the Earth Ambassador to Vulcan. After his death, Sub-Commander T'Pol took over as director of the Vulcan Science Academy."

"But what of the Xindi?" asked Zlar in frustration. Had they messed the time line up so badly? "According to records, Commander Tucker became quite angry and vengeful after the attack on Earth."

"Ah, yes. In those reports, Commander Tucker wasn't a father," Baloka reminded Zlar gently. "Once he became one, he couldn't afford to gallop off and become a vigilante. By all accounts, he was still angry, but it was not the all consuming anger he once possessed."

Puida and the Doctor glanced at each other uneasily. Finally, the Doctor spoke. "That's quite a change...will it need to be altered to the original?"

Admiral Baloka smiled. "I don't know. It seems to have been a positive development. Computer, play audio recording of Sub-Commander T'Pol's eulogy at the funeral of Ambassador Charles Tucker III, beginning with her comments concerning his role in Vulcan-human relations."

"...Ambassador Charles Tucker III played a pivotal role in the relationships between humans and Vulcans. While unconventional, his methods were exceedingly effective. His effectiveness extended to all areas of his life, be it his work as an engineer, a commanding officer, an Ambassador, a father, or a...friend. Ambassador Tucker's presence had a noticeable affect on all whom he came in contact with. Trip....shall be missed. Immensely."

The Tholians looked at each other in amazement at T'Pol's revelation. Although her voice remained unemotional, the pauses and semantics definitely betrayed emotion.

"So, no, I do not believe it would be prudent to force history to repeat the unfortunate 'Vengeful Trip'Tucker incident," Baloka surmised. "And the rest of Headquarters agrees with me. Are there any other questions?"

"Was she that emotional during Reed's funeral?" Puida asked.

"Computer, play Sub-Commander T'Pol's eulogy at the funeral of Lieutenant Malcolm Reed, beginning with her comments concerning loyalty," Baloka instructed.

"...Someone once commented to me that the human concept of loyalty was an emotion. They were correct in that regard. Loyalty, as with other human emotions, I discarded in order to follow the path of Surak. In knowing Malcolm, it became apparent that his every action reflected his tremendous capacity for loyalty. With his death, I find myself ever more certain that loyalty is an emotion. I grow less certain, however, of the wisdom of discarding it."

Zlar shook his head in wonderment. "That just goes to prove that messing with time and all its accompanying paradoxes is a dangerous thing."

Puida nodded enthusiastically. "I think a Captain from the twenty-fourth century said it best: It gives me a headache."


End file.
